How Do We Deal?
by PoeticallyPathetic19
Summary: An incident at school changes everything for the boys. AU. Wincest.
1. Chapter 1

-Note- Yet another random story I'd forgotten about. I just finished it up a little, did a little cleaning up and voila! Here it is:) Hope you like it! This all stemmed from a random image that fell into my head when I was half asleep, months ago. Probably far fetched, lol okay so the whole thing is far fetched, but I'm twisted. And that's life. Enjoy! -Note-

Dean isn't quite sure how he's wound up here in a classroom full of his brother's classmates, with his brother practically straddling him. Or more importantly who the man waving a gun in their faces is. He knows logically how this happened, knows the steps, the events that took him to this point. But he just doesn't understand it.

He glances down at Sam to find his head still bent, avoiding his gaze. Dean's sure his stomach is as twisted and cold as his own after the little show they'd put on for everyone. But it wasn't Sam's fault and Dean needs to find away to tell him that. So he does what he's always done when Sam's sick or hurt. What he's done since Sam was a baby and their mother was still alive.

He'd been the only one that could calm Sammy down when he woke in the middle of the night or when he was feeling sick. He would climb into Sam's crib and stroke his hair until he fell asleep again. And it had always worked.

It was all he had now and he was counting on it. He lets his hand rest on the top of Sam's head for a minute, worrying about Sam pulling away from him or freaking out. Worried that the only fallback he'd ever had is going to fail him when he needs it the most.

But Sam doesn't pull away, in fact he does the opposite, leaning into Dean's touch more than he's ever done, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Dean shakes his head in relief.

He's still his Sammy.

xXx

And his Sammy's wondering the same thing as Dean strokes his hair, calming him. He can remember this morning, the twisted, dejected feeling in his gut as he made his way to class. Dean walking with him to class, or starting to, as usual. Winking and shoving him in the direction of his first period, _make me proud Sammy_, echoing in his ears.

**His brother said it every day. He wasn't sure when Dean had started that or why, he just knew it like he knew the sound of his brother's voice or the brush of his hand against his.**

**He'd opened his mouth to say what he always said, _I've got class. Maybe tomorrow_, when Kacey walked up behind Dean and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her lips fell to Dean's neck, effectively wiping the grin from his face. **

**Dean had a split second to see the wavering emotions in his little brother's eyes before his own slipped shut.**

**If it weren't for Kacey, Sam would have never known how much Dean liked to have his neck kissed or what that tightening feeling in his chest really meant. Kacey had made him realize a lot of things about both his brother and himself. Things he didn't want to know, shouldn't know, but somehow did.**

**Dean's eyes fluttered open, half glazed over with pleasure and Sam lost all breathing capability. To have his brother turn such a look on him shook him to his very core. This was the kind of look only Kacey ever got to see. The kind of looks Sam had only in dreams or the once or twice he'd walked in on Dean with girls before. **

**Times he wasn't even sure his brother would remember staring up at him as he came.**

xXx

**"What is it Sam?" Dean asked, brushing off Kacey's next attempt at starting something up in the middle of the hallway. Apparently Sam couldn't**

**He hated these overly affectionate displays Kacey seemed to love. He hated them more when Sam was around, because he always got these _looks _on his face. Disgust or pain, sometimes both. **

**The only thing he could do was push Kacey away and hope that, that look disappeared and the smile he'd been wearing seconds before reappeared. **

**xXx**

**Sam closed his mouth and shook his head. Forget it. What was he going to say? I want to be the one doing that, not Kacey? That he was jealous? **

**His brother would think he'd been possessed or just completely lost his mind, and the next time he brought up any mention of college Dean would have his bags packed and Sam halfway out the door before he'd even hit sixteen, instead of closing himself completely off.**

**No thank you. He'd stick with the dumb response. **

**xXx**

"**Sammy?" Dean repeated, his fingers brushing lightly over Sam's arm. He watched his younger brother closely for a moment before turning to glare at Kacey. Couldn't she leave him alone for two seconds? It was obvious there was something wrong with Sam and she couldn't let go of her hormones long enough for him to fix things.**

**Sam forced a smile and shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it. I'll see you after third."**

**He hesitated a moment, not sure if he should really let Sam go on this one but finally gave him a tilted grin and nodded. "After third," he repeated.**

**He nodded, relief seeming to flood his face as he turned quickly and headed towards his classroom, slowing down only when he heard Kacey's voice go slightly high pitched. A sign that they were arguing or she was ready to argue and Dean would be charming and flirtatious and things would go back to before the argument had ever been attempted.**

**xXx**

**Sam slowed anyway, wondering just how much of this was his fault.**

**"He's my little brother," Dean said surprising Sam and probably Kacey with a real answer. "He's my responsibility…"**

**And that was more than Sam wanted to hear. He picked up the pace and hurried into his first period class.**

**That was where things had started to go wrong. He hadn't been able to concentrate on anything besides Dean and Kacey. Hell, it had taken him a good minute longer than it should have to realize there was a man with a gun in the room. **

**But when he did, his Winchester instincts kicked in. Completely calm and in control now, Sam tried to make sure everyone else around him stayed the same way. The last thing they needed was a hysterical student. **

**Things would have been fine if the _teacher_ hadn't been the one to lose his cool and wound up lying in a pool of his own blood. Then all sense of calm or self control fled the other students.**

**Swearing, he turned to the group of girls behind him and reassured them that things would work out and that they had to stay calm. They each took a few deep breaths and nodded. **

**Sam wasn't popular like his brother, but the other students knew he was smart and the girls trusted him more than most of the other boys in school. **

**xXx**

**Meanwhile Dean was in the downstairs south hall trying to pay attention to whatever it is his English teacher was rambling about. He sighed and gave up five minutes into the lecture and leaned his head against the wall. His eyes slipped shut only to find them flying back open in fear seconds later. He didn't know what was wrong with him, couldn't explain it, but suddenly his stomach was twisted up in knots and cold dread ran through him.**

**_Sammy_, was his first thought. He jumped up from his chair, startling the students around him just as the first shot sounded. He watched Mr. Wright's face drain of color, his once sour look directed at Dean, replaced with terror. **

**Dean swallowed his own fear and darted out of the classroom. The school had procedures, had lock downs and evacuations and a thousand other "plans" in case of an emergency. **

**Plans and procedures that didn't do a damn bit of good. Plans and procedures he wasn't trusting his brother's life to.**

**He raced up the stairs and down the hall, skidding to a stop so fast he had to grab hold of the door's handle to keep from crashing through the double doors, and down the stairs at this end of the hall. **

**Unfortunately, by saving himself a spill down the South hall stairs he'd just found himself face to face with the gun he could only assume had sent him running up the stairs in the first place. **

**He clenched his jaw shut, a smart remark on his lips, and glanced up at the man from his knees. The man was average height, average build, brown hair and dull blue eyes. The kind of guy that just didn't stand out. The kind of guy that could go postal over something like that. **

**The man gestured for Dean to climb to his feat impatiently.**

**Dean glanced around the room for Sam, not caring about anything else, and found him smack dab in the middle of nearly every girl in his class. If a man wasn't waving a gun in his face, Dean would have been proud of his younger brother and his popularity with the female gender. **

**He knew he had it in him. Sam just had to let go sometimes.**

**Not that, that was the point right now. **


	2. Chapter 2

-Note- Switching back to the present my loves, sorry! I'm hating the first half of this story, but completely loving the second half…it's killing me that I have to work my way up to that point even though it's been written for MONTHS now! Gah! So try and bear with me through the crap, okay? -Note-

"You okay?" Dean whispers, hesitantly stroking Sam's hair, his shifting bringing him back to the present.

Before Sam has a chance to answer the man steps forward and orders "Again."

Dean tears his gaze from Sam's down turned face to stare up at the man angrily. It's bad enough the guy's come in here waving a gun in front of his brother, then to scare him like this was just too much. If he was sure that his brother would get out of here safely without him, there was no way he'd be taking any orders. He'd be mouthing off and probably getting himself shot. But he couldn't put Sam through that. Not now.

The man sneers at him and makes an impatient gesture with the gun in his right hand. Biting back another smartass remark Dean tilts Sam's face up to his and gives him an apologetic look before closing his mouth over his younger brother's.

All he can hear is the word _again, _echoing in his mind. There shouldn't be an again, there shouldn't be a first time. This moment, this kiss, shouldn't be.

He can't even begin to imagine the level of twisted this brings their lives to. It isn't as if this had been his idea in the first place, but the fact that it doesn't _disgust_ him, reassures him that they have, in fact, reached a new level of twisted.

Why was this so interesting for him? Surely he hadn't taken a classroom full of high school students hostage to watch two brothers kiss. Especially, when one brother wasn't even in the class he'd taken hostage. None of this was making sense.

If Dean's mouth wasn't busy showing Sam what he was best at, he'd have been asking that question. As it is though, his mouth is completely busy.

Sam's mouth is soft and warm, his lips parting instantly for his older brother's. And as Dean's tongue traces Sam's lower lip, it hits him how sick this really is. The first sign of disgust beginning to show. He quickly pulls back from the kiss and shifts uncomfortably. He's come too close to treating his younger brother as something much different.

xXx

Sam slowly opens his eyes. His mouth is tingling from the kiss, his entire body shaking. He's still not sure this is real. But if the panic flaring in his chest now is any indication, then he'd say this is real. Too real.

He licks his lips and swallows back the jumble of words threatening to escape. He's afraid of what will come out of his mouth, because he can't take them back. Not after what's happened.

xXx

Before either can say a word, both Winchesters are brought back to the present by the grunt of annoyance from the man standing above them. "Get up," he orders.

They're seconds away from pushing to their feet when there's a sound at the door. All eyes turn from them to the unexpected noise. There's another man standing outside who looks an awful lot like the average freak in front of them.

He's got blond hair though and watery green eyes, a few inches shorter than the first idiot. He looks nervously around the hallway and then back into their classroom before knocking again.

Dean frowns. This is getting weirder and weirder by the second, and he has no clue as to what this is about. He watches as the first man makes his way towards the door, no longer paying any attention to them. He opens it and lets the guy in, their heads coming together in urgent conversation before the door has even closed.

Sure that the gunman is preoccupied with the appearance of the newest man, he returns his attention to his still silent brother. There's nothing he can do right now anyway, he might as well check on Sam. He hasn't gotten an answer from him yet.

"You okay Sammy?" he asks again anxiously. His brother hasn't said a word since that first kiss; always tilting his head down as if he couldn't stand to face Dean. That familiar slump of his shoulders when he's waiting for Dean to hit him, to punish him somehow.

He nods once. Dean lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding and pulls Sam a little closer to him. Sam jerks back as if his touch burns him, and Dean's heart sinks. He's slowly beginning to realize what's wrong with Sam. He could kick himself for not understanding this sooner. Sam needs him to be there, to be the older brother and he's failing him now more than ever.

xXx

Sam feels sick. Sick and flushed. He's just kissed his older brother twice. _Twice_. He's thought about it a hundred different times, and hated himself a little more with each fantasy. But those were just fantasies, things Dean would never know about. Couldn't hurt him for, or worse, hate him.

But now they're not fantasies. They're a reality. Two separate, desperate kisses that has him fighting to keep his heart where it belongs. His tongue's had the same problem.

Logically, rationally, he knows that this wasn't his fault. That he's literally had a gun held to his head. But that hasn't done anything to lessen the guilt. It's because he liked it, because he wants to do it again. That has to be it. That's the only thing he can come up with. The only reason he feels so sick with guilt he's about ready to throw up.

xXx

"Sammy," he soothes quietly. "I'm not mad at you, okay?"

Sam's head slowly lifts. His wide, chocolate puppy dog eyes still avoiding his. "You're not?"

"No! Why would I be mad at you?"

"I _kissed_ you," Sam damn near whimpers.

"That's not your fault Sam. It's okay."

He shakes his head. "Dad's going to kill me."

"No, no he won't Sammy," Dean promises stroking Sam's hair. "No one is going to hurt you. Not while I'm here."

Sam finally brings his gaze up to his older brother's; his lower lip trembling with the effort not to cry. "Promise?"

Dean feels his heart kick at the pleading tone in Sammy's normally stubborn laced voice. Sam is turning sixteen this year and a few hours ago would have balked at the idea of Dean babying him this way. The only time he lets Dean give him any kind of comfort is when he wakes in the night, shaking so badly his bed vibrates right along with him.

For his baby brother to be reduced to this, to hear him pleading with Dean to not let their father hurt him over something that wasn't even his fault, makes him beyond angry. Makes him hateful and the need for violence overwhelming.

Before Dean has a chance to promise him anything the gunman's back with his new friend. He orders the brothers up again and shoves them forward. Sam stumbles and Dean slides his arm around Sam's waist to find himself being shoved roughly away.

If he thought Sam's broken, childish voice hurt more than anything else he'd ever felt, he was wrong. An angry Sam is worse. Hurts more.

"Sammy, please," Dean whispers as the gunman turns back to his friend. He knows he should be paying more attention to what they're doing or saying. He should be trying to figure out what the hell is going on, but he can't seem to pull his thoughts from Sam. They can't afford to fight now, to push each other away. Something bad is coming, he can feel it in his bones and he knows Sam has to feel it too. Has to know that this isn't going to end now with a few simple kisses and then home at the end of the day when the final bell rings. Today is going to be a very different kind of day.

"I'm not a baby," his brother hisses back. Dean fights back the urge to yell at him, to shake him and tell him he will always be a baby to Dean. That he will always need looking after and protecting.

"I know that," Dean says instead, trying to soothe his brother's bruised ego.

"Then why did you do that?"

"Because I don't want that bastard anywhere near you," Dean snaps, finally losing some of his careful control. "As long as you're with me, you're safe and I'm not giving you up for anything. So cut the crap and deal with it. You're not a baby? Quit acting like one."

xXx

"I'm tired of being your responsibility," Sam says, trying his hardest not to let Dean's words affect him as much as they have. Or at least to not let _Dean_ know how much they've affected him, sending his heart into a wild rhythm for a moment before plunging him back into the disgust he felt at his feelings and the affects it all had on Dean.

He knows he probably shouldn't say anything about this morning, especially not now, but it's driving him crazy. More than this whole hostage situation, which is crazy all on it's own. But it's the truth.

It felt good to hear Dean say he wasn't giving him up for anything, to tell him in no uncertain terms that he was _important_ to Dean. But it also makes things worse. Dean's worried about him and he's pushing him away over something so stupid. He's not even concerned about the fact that there's a guy with a gun in his classroom. Or that now he's made himself a new friend.

The only thing Sam can focus his selfish thoughts on are this morning and the conversation he wasn't meant to hear.

xXx

Dean frowns and watches as his brother's entire body seems to slump in defeat. "What are you talking about Sam?"

"I heard what you said to Kacey today. About me being your responsibility. It's my fault you can't have a semi-normal life. You were too busy worrying about me to just enjoy your girlfriend. How fucked up is that?"

They're being held hostage in a room full of his classmates, they have no idea what's going on, they've reached a new level of fucked, and _this_ is what Sam's worried about now?

Now that he knows Dean won't let anyone hurt him, doesn't blame him for the kiss, this is all he cares about. Being Dean's responsibility.

"What's fucked up is that you're saying any of this. Sam, you're my responsibility whether you like it or not."

"I don't want to be your responsibility. I'm not a baby anymore."

"Well, that's too bad Sammy, because you became my responsibility the minute you were born. I'm your big brother."

"Exactly. My _brother_, not my _father_. You're doing all the things you shouldn't have to."

Dean shrugs, trying to hide his irritation at this subject. It's pointless to talk about it because Sam has been, and always will be, his responsibility. Dean isn't upset about it, doesn't hate it. It's just a part of his life and he loves his brother. Why shouldn't he be his responsibility? He's _his Sammy_.

But it's obvious that Sam's upset about this, for whatever reason, and he has to take it seriously or things could get out of hand. And as screwed up as things are right now, they didn't need to make things worse.

xXx

Sam huffs in response and shakes his bangs out of his eyes. "I'm not your responsibility anymore."

_Yeah, like it's going to be that easy,_ he thinks. This _is _Dean after all. He's not just going to go, _okay, Sam. If that's what you want, then you're not my responsibility anymore._

Yep. That's exactly what Dean will do. Especially when there's a man with a gun. It will most definitely be Dean's first thought, to just give Sam what he wants.

How high would his brother have to be to agree so quickly?

Dean snorts. "Like hell. I told you before and I won't say it again, you have been and always will be my responsibility, whether you like it or not. So quit acting like a baby."

"So what, you're going to go through life without a girlfriend and wind up hating me? I mean, you guys did break up right?" They had to have broken up. It wasn't the first fight they'd had over Sam. And if they stayed together, it probably wouldn't be the last.

xXx

"How much of the conversation did you hear?" Dean asks, his heart skipping a beat. He had hoped his brother was out of earshot when Kacey had started in on his relationship with Sam again. Apparently he hadn't.

"Just that I was your responsibility," Sam mutters, glancing down at his feet. "I didn't want to hear anything else."

"Then you didn't hear the part where I told her you are the most important thing in my life and that, that wasn't going to change? Or that there's more to life then, and if you ever repeat this I swear I'll kill you, just making out?" Or the part where he'd told her that if she ever tried to come between him and his brother again he'd break her heart without a second thought, he adds silently. "Sammy, I don't understand why this bothers you so much. You've been my responsibility for almost sixteen years."

"I hate feeling like a burden, Dean. You can't even make out with your girlfriend without worrying about me, for fuck's sake."

He can't do a lot of things without worrying about Sam, or just thinking about him. But that's his sick mind at work and his problem to deal with, not Sam's.

"It's not like it's going anywhere. We never stick around that long and beside that she's just another girl. You're my brother, that's not going to change."

"This is so fucked up."

"Get used to it little bro, some things you just can't change. God knows I tried to trade you in."

"Jerk," Sam snaps playfully.

"Bitch."

Dean grins and drapes an arm around his brother's shoulder. One crisis has been avoided for now, though he knows it isn't over completely. Not with the way Sam's mind works. And another is coming back again. His grin falters as their new friend returns, motioning them inside the adjoining classroom.

The click of the lights being shut off behind them has Dean glancing over his shoulder and pulling his brother more tightly to him.

"You ever done this before?" the man asks shutting the classroom door.

"Do what?" Dean asks reluctantly. Normally he isn't too eager to answer anyone's questions but when that someone's holding a gun far too close to his brother and he has no weapons on him, he's a little more inclined to curb his temper.

"Kiss."

He resists the urge to laugh in the man's face. Sam's his baby brother; he's never kissed him in any way other than brotherly before today. Hell, he can't remember the last time he's even told his brother he loved him.

"No," he finally answers.

The man nods and gives a soft grunt. "That's what I thought. Stage fright."

"Stage fright?" Dean repeats in confusion. What the hell does that mean?

"You like kissing your brother; you just can't do it with all those other people watching you. Judging you. You hold yourself back."

This time Dean doesn't try and hide anything, he laughs loudly in the man's face. "He's my baby brother. I've never even thought of kissing him."

Okay, so maybe that isn't completely true. He's thought of it a few times, mostly when he's been really horny and there were no girls around to scratch that itch for him. But he drank a few dozen beers and he was fine again. No need to share that with a complete stranger, and his already confused brother.

"I bet I can change that. Kiss him again."

"No," Dean snaps. He's hurt Sam enough for one day. He's not even sure he can fix things as they are, there's no coming back from what this man wants. "What the hell makes you want us to kiss in the first place?" he finally gets a chance to ask.

"Two things as pretty as you are…it should be a crime not to kiss."

Oh, well, when you put it like that…fuck no. That didn't answer a damn thing.

"That's what you're here for," Dean says. "To find two boys to kiss? That's your whole reasoning for taking a bunch of teenagers hostage?" It's all he can do not to yell and scream at the man for his ridiculous ideas.

"What we're here for isn't your concern. You just do what I say and you and your pretty little brother will make it out of here alive. Isn't that more important then what I'm here for?"

Dean huffs in response, knowing it sounds childish, but he _is_ still in high school. And who the hell says he has to be completely mature when a man is forcing you to kiss your younger brother?

Whether he likes it or not, isn't the point.

"That's what I thought," the man sneers. "Now, kiss him."

"Okay, okay," Dean mutters, inching closer to his brother. "I'll kiss him."

"Good boy," he murmurs.

Dean watches as he sinks back in the teacher's seat behind the desk, his back directly to the adjoining door. His eyes are locked intently on Dean as he closes the small distance between Sam and himself.

He cups the back of his brother's neck and presses a feather light kiss to his full mouth. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, stroking Sam's hair with his free hand. "I'm so sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

-Note-Okay, wow...this one took me forever to get out. I was so embarrassed writing this and even more to post it. I've never really written any slash before so I was afraid I'd screw it up big time. This one is more graphic than usual, but by no means all out. I'm much too new at this for that quite yet, sadly. I'm hoping to work through it with a fellow Wincest Supporter sometime soon. Until then, here is my best effort!-Note-

Dean pulls back from the kiss slightly dazed. "You going to be okay?" he whispers hoarsely. It doesn't matter how good Sam's mouth feels under his, he knows it doesn't feel nearly as good when he thinks about what he's doing to his brother.

Sam gives him a weak smile and nods. "Just don't stop."

"Don't stop what?" he asks.

Sam's smile quickly fades. He turns his head and mutters a soft, "Forget it."

Dean frowns and watches Sam shrink into himself again. His shoulders slumping and pulling away from Dean as much as possible. The only comfort Sam seems to take is in the way Dean strokes his hair, the briefest moment of relaxation crossing his brother's face before quickly being replaced with a look of blankness. He hadn't realized he'd even been stroking Sam's hair, too caught up in his lips to notice much else. He suddenly knows what his brother is having such a hard time asking him for though.

He smiles and leans his forehead against Sam's. "And I'm the emotionally stunted one?" he jokes.

Sam rolls his eyes and grins back. His grin eases the fear in Dean's chest and for a split second he forgets there's anyone else in the room with them. Of course, he should know that won't last long. Nothing can ever go right with them for more than ten seconds, it's absolutely impossible.

xXx

The man's voice is loud enough to startle them both as it breaks through their brief moment of calm, his words even more startling. "Sit in his lap," he orders, nodding at Sam.

Sam looks up at Dean questioningly. He isn't doing anything that man says unless his brother says it's okay. He wants to make it out of here alive sure, but not if it means having Dean hate him. He sucks at taking orders for the most part unless they're from Dean and even then they've had their fair share of disagreements over it.

He's tried to stay away from Dean, tried to ignore the thoughts he has about his older brother. But now this man is forcing him to kiss Dean, to live out part of his sick and twisted thoughts in the weirdest fashion possible. As sick as Sam is, he's never once thought of things happening like this.

xXx

Dean nods and holds his arms open for Sam, who crawls like a child into his lap and hangs his head in shame. Still stroking his hair, Dean lifts Sam's face to his and claims his mouth forcefully. He doesn't want Sam to blame himself for this. He doesn't want him to be scared. He has to realize that it's just Dean, that he isn't going to let anything else happen to him. It's only his mouth on Sam's, his tongue eagerly seeking entrance to the wet heat of his mouth.

God, what is he doing? The man had said to kiss Sam, not to fuck his mouth.

The only thing that keeps him from ripping his mouth from Sam's is the fact that his brother finally seems to respond to him in some other way than fear or shame. His thighs are squeezing Dean's hips as he inches forward, his own mouth eating hungrily at Dean's.

He should stop this, should try to find some way out. Instead, he forces his brother closer, his tongue battling for control as Sam whimpers shamelessly into his mouth.

"Sam," he pants. "Sammy…"

xXx

Sam whimpers louder at his name and his hips jerk involuntarily. Hearing Dean as if he's falling apart at the seams sends a thrill through him. He's always known the effect Dean has on him, but he's never known how he affects Dean apart from the protector response he always gets. To hear Dean respond in some kind of needy way makes him feel less pathetic.

He knows somewhere in the back of his mind that this is wrong. That he should be embarrassed by the noises he's making, but he isn't.

It's too easy to forget everything when Dean kisses him.

Sam scoots closer, rubbing himself against Dean's hip. His body's desperate to find release, wound so tight that all it will take is a soft touch of Dean's hand, a press of lips to his throat, anything, as long as it's Dean.

xXx

Dean groans, barely able to control the thrust of his own hips at his brother's whimpering. It shouldn't turn him on like it does to have Sam in his lap, have his mouth so willing under his. The whole thing's wrong, but it just feels so I right /I .

Still, what kind of excuse is that? He can already hear Dad's disbelieving sputtering as he tries to find the right words to let Dean know his ass is going to be soar for months and not for the reasons he'd like.

What makes it worse is knowing the freak is watching them and getting off on it. But in a twisted way it's almost comforting too. The fact that there's someone even sicker than him out there. Or really, in here.

He just wishes he didn't have an up close and personal view of it. He doesn't like the idea of anyone but him seeing Sam like this, ever.

Forgetting everything else outside Sam's pleasure, his relaxed body, Dean palms Sam's dick, rewarded with a sharp cry and wild thrusts as Sam comes with the first gentle touch.

He's so fucked.

xXx

His brother pulls back and blinks slowly like he does when he's just woken up and can't figure out why. Sam sucks in a lungful of air as he stares at Dean, his body jerking as he comes down from his high. He's still in complete shock over what's happening. That Dean's I letting /I it happen, even if there is practically a gun being held to his head.

He's always known Dean would do anything to protect him but this had always seemed so most definitely no, no matter what. This was uncharted territory for the both of them and he wonders if Dad would see this as okay, extenuating circumstances and all.

Dean stares back at him, the same look of confusion and worry he's had on his face since he walked, or more accurately I slid /I , into his classroom. He can tell Dean's having just as hard a time believing what's going on as he is, maybe more, but his mind hasn't stopped running through different escape scenarios either. He's sure of it. Dean thrives under pressure and now will be no different.

The faint squeak of a chair pulls Sam's gaze from Dean. It's stupid but he keeps forgetting that they're being watched like some freak show.

"You've got those fuck me lips," he laughs huskily from his seat behind the desk. The man hasn't made any move to come near them, content with just watching. And that's fine with both boys. If all he does is look they'll be just fine. Years and years of therapy aside. "Like a porn star."

Dean blushes but shows no other sign that he's heard what the man has to say. Sam sits curled in his lap, his gaze locked once more with Dean's as he listens to the man talk about his brother as if he's some cheap pick up.

It makes him angry, his chest so tight he can't breathe.

But at the same time he thinks that tightness in his chest has always been there, as long as there's been Dean. That dull aching that grows sharper with every smile, every laugh, hell, every breath.

It's what's fucked him over.

xXx

Like Dean hasn't heard those words before. He's spent his life being dragged from state to state, town to town, school to school and in every one there's been at least one person whose felt the need to let him know that. Sometimes it starts out as taunting, other times as a pick up line. But he never knows what to say. I Fuck me lips /I , what the hell's that supposed to mean anyway?

He isn't embarrassed or turned on when they say it, so what does it matter? He has other things in life to worry about than what people think of him or his lips. This is the first time anyone had ever said it in front of Sam though and for some reason that bothers him.

It's not like Sam hasn't heard things about him somewhere down the line. With all the girls he's dated in all the different schools, Sam's had to of heard something sometime. It was Dean's own fault anyway. He's done everything short of setting the school on fire to stay in the same school as Sam. Most guys would be embarrassed to be stuck in High School still at his age, but he isn't most guys and they don't have a younger brother like Sam to keep watch over. They don't have his life period.

xXx

Sam tilts his head to the side, swallowing his anger for now. Sam's not stupid, he knows blowing up over something like this is only going to get them in more trouble and they have enough trouble as it is.

The man is right about his brother's mouth though. Dean's lips do scream fuck me. And for a brief moment Sam wonders what it would be like to fuck his brother's mouth, to have those porn star lips wrapped tightly around his cock. Swollen with desire and his kisses, his soft skilled tongue teasing him mercilessly, in typical Dean fashion as Sam writhes beneath him.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and nibbles softly on Dean's lower lip, Sam's hands resting against his neck. He can feel his brother swallow hard as his eyes slip shut. Happiness washes through Sam, erasing any fear he has left. He's causing Dean pleasure; making his brother's body respond this way and it makes him eager for more. To please Dean more.

xXx

Dean's body vibrates with the tenderness Sam shows him. His kisses almost apologetic. Sam doesn't owe him anything and still he feels like he does. Dean can tell by the way his hands cradle his neck and Sam's mouth moves slow over his.

Before it had been almost frantic and intense, now it's gentle and loving. Sam's trying to make up for the man's words, for his actions.

He finds himself sliding his arms back around Sam, hugging him tight to his chest. There's too much space between them as far as Dean's concerned and he has to fix that. If he fixes anything today it has to be that, he thinks with desperation.

Sam's thumb rubs back and forth across his throat and he smiles deliriously against Dean's lips as if he's intoxicated just by the taste of him. Dean can't help but grin at that thought himself and kiss Sam a little harder, until he's whimpering from the bruising force. When Dean lets up, afraid he's hurting Sam, he whimpers louder, this time in protest and forces Dean closer.

Dean laughs softly at Sam's silent demand and happily obliges. He drags Sam closer, aligning their bodies which only intensifies Sam's kisses further. Dean would probably laugh at his younger brother again if his hips hadn't started rocking against his own, a steady rhythm that lasts about as long as the chaste kisses they'd shared a few moments before.

A sharp gasp forces him to release Sam's mouth, his head falling forward against Sam's shoulder. Sam echoes his gasp and thrusts up against him, sliding his hands into Dean's hair. His hold is too tight, his teeth too sharp against the back of Dean's neck, but it all fades with the pleasure of Sam's dick rubbing against his through the rough fabric of their jeans.

One last thrust and suddenly Sam's coming again, his breathing harsh in Dean's ears. His hands fist in Dean's shirt and his eyes snap shut, leaving Dean to stare in horrified ecstasy. What the hell was he thinking? Like it wasn't bad enough the first time, now he's gotten Sam off twice.

He's gotten Sam off twice and now his tongue is shoving it's way back down Sam's throat all over again, like nothing ever happened.

xXx

Oh, God.

Sam bites down hard on his lower lip, riding out his orgasm. He can't believe he's done this twice in record time. If he thought about it he'd be embarrassed and he'd probably never look at Dean again, but he can't find it in him to think anything beyond I oh, God, /I over and over again.

"Sammy," Dean breathes, rocking him gently. "I'm sorry. So sorry."

He doesn't want him to be sorry. He wants him to keep kissing him, to bring him over the edge again and again until his body's too spent to breathe. Sam nuzzles his neck, placing open mouthed kisses every where he can reach without leaving the safety of his brother's arms.

"Sam?" Dean questions weakly.

"Hmm," he murmurs in response, too weak to say much else if he wants to try for round three.

"What are-" Dean swallows. "What are you doing?"

xXx

That's the most intelligent question Dean can muster at the moment. His brain is like jelly, Sam's soft cries echoing in his ears. The panting, and oh I God /I the whimpering, he thought for sure those would be the things that broke him but the soft, almost sob like cries when Sam came in his arms... I Jesus /I , and for the second time too.

It's like Sam knows it'll be the only time for them and he's making it count. God, fuck, is he making it count. Sam ignores his question and trails lower, tongue flicking out to taste. Dean shudders and swallows a groan of pleasure. He can feel Sam smile against his neck, a soft knowing laugh sending warmth flooding through his already overheated body.

"Sam, you gotta stop," he chokes out honestly. He's only so strong and he's already touched Sam in a way he shouldn't, already fucked Sam's mouth. It's only a matter of time before he breaks and he takes everything Sam's offering.

"Kiss me," Sam requested. "Dean, please." Sam's voice breaks on the please, a soft sound of desperation that tugs at Dean's heart. Before he knows what's happening he's got Sam's face firmly grasped between his hands, mouths locked, and dammit, his tongue licking it's way into his brother's mouth. In short, doing all the things he'd been trying his hardest to avoid.

Sam hums with approval and his mouth opens to Dean, giving, offering, I promising /I . Dean can't help but groan at the knowledge that Sam's giving something he'll never give to anyone else, because there's no taking something like this back. They're bound together whether this goes anywhere or not and it pleases him to a ridiculous extent to know only he can have this.

"Please," Sam pants, his arms sliding around Dean's neck, hands fisting in his shirt. "Please."

"What, Sammy?" Dean asks, almost as desperate to give Sam what he wants as Sam is to get it. "What do you want?"

Dean's hand slips beneath Sam's shit, fingers trailing down his spine. He can't not touch Sam now. Not when he's kissing and pleading with him. He wants to shake Sam, to get the answer out of him as soon as possible. Only, once he hears Sam's request he wishes he'd taken off.

"Fuck me," Sam gasps. "Please. I want you to fuck me." Sam whimpers louder this time, mouth sealing over Dean's in a desperate plead. Dean's cock twitches at the idea of riding Sam's ass into the floor of an empty classroom. Well, he likes to pretend it's an empty classroom.

It's hot, it's heavy, and it's so wrong. He can deal with heavy, God, he could deal with a relationship as long as it was with Sam. But he can't have that. A relationship like this, with his younger brother is wrong, it's wrong by Winchester definition and that's what matters. That and Sam's safety.

"I don't want your first time to be in front of him," Dean whispers softly, nuzzling Sam's ear, not wanting to hurt Sam, to lie to him.

He's assuming it is Sam's first time, because if he thinks otherwise right now he might lose sight of what's happening and let Sam have what he wants just to mark him, to ruin him for anyone else that may want to take his baby brother for a spin.

"I don't care as long as it's you, Dean. I want you." Sam arches up against Dean.

"Not here," he says firmly, standing his ground. It's hard to tell his brother no, but he has to. It's better for Sam. "Not here, Sammy, not like this."

I Not ever /I , Dean thinks bitterly. He knows it and somewhere Sam has to know it too. That today was a fluke, a one time disaster. They're already freaks in society, but this is too much. When not even Dad can accept it, it's beyond wrong.

He can't bring himself to say any of it out loud though, especially not to Sam. And especially not now after what they'd just done. He can't stand the thought of Sam hurting more than he already does right now.

Eventually, Sam will realize his mistake and Dean won't have to do anything but smile and pretend like he's not breaking either.

xXx

Sam pulls back, ready for full pout or beg mode, whichever will weaken Dean's resolve faster and stops. He looks at Dean's swollen mouth, his flushed cheeks and the pain hidden just behind the calm reassurance in his eyes.

Staring up at his brother Sam realizes how much it hurts Dean to be doing this, to have to touch him. Pain, anger, and guilt…always the same look in Dean's eyes whenever he lets his defenses down.

Sam wraps his arms around Dean's neck and nuzzles the underside his jaw. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Dean snorts quietly. "For what, Sam?"

"Everything."

There's a moment of uncertainty before Dean realizes what he means. "Look at me," he orders, all traces of amusement gone from his voice. He repeats the order again, more firmly this time when Sam doesn't respond. Sam continues to ignore him and nuzzles apologetically at his brother's throat.

Dean snaps back almost violently and forces Sam's face up. "Sam," he says firmly. "This is not your fault. None of this." His tone leaves no room for argument but that doesn't mean Sam doesn't try.

"Then whose is it?"

"His. Mine. But not yours."

"Never mine, right?" he asks bitterly.

"Never."

Sam snorts in disgust and shakes his head. His brother will never change.

xXx

Dean takes a deep breath and tries to focus on anything besides Sam. He's wasted too much time indulging in his sickness. He needs to get them out of there as quickly as possible. That's what he should have been doing in the first place. He watches out of the corner of his eyes as the man sinks further into the chair, his hands hidden beneath the desk, head tilted back.

He shudders, knowing exactly what he's doing. Dean shifts to block Sam's view of him. That's the last thing he needs to see right now. Practically being fucked by your older brother is enough trauma for one day, even for a kid like Sam.

It hits Dean then that if his hands are busy underneath the desk then he's no where near on guard as he was in the beginning, or paying enough attention to either boys. The man's eyes open then, watching them suspiciously. He realizes that they've stopped making any sounds and he's got nothing to work with.

Trying not to gag on that thought Dean brings Sam's mouth up to his and brushes their mouths lightly together. "Sammy," he says softly. "I need you to moan for me."

Sam's eyes fly open, staring at him in shock. His cheeks flush a deep red. "What?" Sam manages to ask.

Okay, so maybe he could have phrased that a little better. Or at least explained himself before he gave Sam a heart attack.

"Trust me, okay, Sam? Just moan for me and don't stop until I tell you."

Sam looks nervous but he nods anyway. A few seconds more of silence has Dean wondering about his younger brother's sudden bout of stage fright.

"Come on, Sam," he says impatiently. How hard is it for the kid to moan? He was doing just fine a few seconds ago.

A shiver runs through him at the memory of Sam's breath on his neck, his soft panting in his ears before…he has to stop this! Sam's the one that needs to get worked up, not him.

"You have to give me something to work with," Sam hisses back with just as much irritation. "It's not like I do this on a daily basis!"

Dean rolls his eyes. Of course now Sam has to be Mr. Modesty. Two seconds ago when he was panting and begging Dean to get him off he hadn't even known the meaning of the word. Still, if Sam wants something to work with who is he to argue?

xXx

What the hell does Dean think? That Sam's as sexually experienced as he is? Or as comfortable with those kind of things as Dean? Because he isn't. Sure, he's kissed girls before, maybe fooled around a little bit, but it's never been like I this /I . Like it is with Dean.

The memory of Dean getting him off might be enough to make him moan, but he's not going to let his brother know that. It's embarrassing and it kills any chance Sam has of Dean touching him again.

Dean grins down at him and shakes his head, making Sam's breath catch in his throat. Less than a second later the breath's knocked completely out of him as Dean's tongue traces the shell of his ear, his brother's strong hands sliding down his sides to rest at his hips.

"Like this?" he teases, warm breath puffing against Sam's cheek.

Sam shivers and forces himself to shake his head. "No," Sam lies. He doesn't want Dean to stop now, he doesn't want to play these games even if it's to get them out of here. He just wants Dean to fuck him stupid and whisper filthy words of promise when he's lying in Dean's arms shaking.

"Hmmm," Dean murmurs, kissing the sensitive flesh behind his ear. "Now?"

Sam's breath catches again but he forces out a shaky, "No."

Dean has to know he's lying by now. He has to be able to feel it or see it in Sam's body language, the way he shakes with every caress of Dean's tongue. Like now as his tongue licks a line of fire down his throat to his collarbone. Dean bites at the flesh there, sucking and licking until Sam's sure he's carrying Dean's mark. For a few days at least, on the outside, and permanently on the inside.

"Here?" Dean tries again, one hand trailing down to palm his hardening dick as he bites sharply at Sam's throat.

Sam lets out an embarrassing squeak and has no choice but to moan his reluctant agreement and replay the memory of Dean's mouth on his skin as his brother inches backwards from his still shaking body, moan after moan not so forced from his lips.

xXx

I Sam's far too good at that /I , he thinks angrily. He's far too good at a lot of things, Dean's learned today. Things he's never imagined his geeky younger brother would know how to do or would be so good at.

Growing frustrated with himself he forces those thoughts to the back of his mind and focuses on getting them the hell out of there. He can dwell on the way Sam moans or how many other guys Sam's been with later.

I Whoa, where had that thought come from /I , he wonders nervously. Just because Sam can kiss and Sam can, oh hell, who is he kidding? Sam worked him over good today and there's no way he's as inexperienced as Dean wants to believe.

Pissed off at himself for taking advantage of Sam and then thinking so poorly of Sam for what experience he has, when Dean's been out drinking and fucking away his impure thoughts for the past few years, he quietly makes his way towards the desk.

The gunman's eyes are squeezed tight, his hips jerking when Sam's moan hitches and then drops. Bile rises in Dean's throat and he forces his eyes away from the man and to the gun lying on the desk in front of him. The guy's a pervert and an amateur, the latter much to Dean's approval.

Life is getting complicated enough without having to think rationally while Sam moans his name a few feet behind him.

I Jesus! /I Dean freezes, nearly tumbling face first into the hard floor as he realizes that Sam's soft wordless moans are not wrapping around his name with obscene perfection. He licks his lips and throws one last glance at Sam. His brother's hips are thrust up, his hand rubbing at his dick as he whimpers loudly and cries out Dean's name one last time.

Dean jerks back around before he can watch Sam come for a third time. Sam was really making this difficult for him. He's only inches away from the gun and freedom, and he's getting distracted by Sam's jerking off.

Cursing his weakness, he pushes silently to his shaky feet. One step, two steps, and his fingers are curling around the gun. It's weight is reassuring in his hand and he finally feels like he can breathe again, like he has everything under control now and Sam's finally safe from an idiot with a gun and an older brother with a hard on.

Dean keeps his eyes locked on the man's as he orders him up, careful to keep his eyes from dropping any lower. It's one thing to know what the guy's been doing this whole time and a completely different thing to see it.

He hears the quiet sound of metal teeth being dragged up and the squeak of the chair as the man reluctantly stands. He glares at Dean, and Dean just smirks back. He's won and he knows it. He isn't going to bother with being a good winner for this creep.

"Sam," Dean says hoarsely, feeling more than hearing as his younger brother moves closer to him.

Sam doesn't answer him, just steps forward and slips his hand in Dean's. His heart flutters and he bites down on his lower lip as he tries to hide the affect Sam has on him. The man raises his brow and gives him a knowing look, to which Dean only sneers in response. He's got the gun now and he's the one giving orders. The freak can be as smug as he wants, but it's over for him.

Dean squeezes Sam's hand reassuringly, not daring to look over at questioning, chocolate brown eyes. He motions towards the door and follows closely as the once in charge gunman jerks open the door.

Spotting the man's fellow loser first, Dean wraps his arm around the man's throat in warning. He has the upper hand and he intends to keep it that way. Sam's taking care of the wide eyed teenagers who have suddenly lost their senses and are coming to their feet. They drop back down quietly and watch in awe as the two Winchesters move forward.

"Drop it," Dean instructs calmly.

The other man turns around, swearing loudly when he realizes that Dean's got his partner by the throat, the gun trained on him. Unfortunately for them both they're not dealing with two typical teenagers or overly hysterical adults, they're dealing with Winchesters and that means the game's over. Dean's been handling guns his entire life and it's no different now. He just has an audience to contend with.

"I wouldn't even try it," Dean adds, watching the man as he weighs his options. Looking for a way out of this isn't a surprise to Dean, it's just annoying and wasting his time. Dean's got the upper hand, and what little time they'd managed to buy with Dean's lust for his brother, is long since over. "I won't think twice about pulling this trigger after what your friend's done today. And I'm pretty sure everyone here is just as okay with it as I am. So, why don't you just put the gun down so we can all get home and enjoy our little school break?" He gives the man a cool smirk and raises a brow questioningly. He can end this with bloodshed or handcuffs, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference to Dean.

The man swears again and narrows his blue eyes at the piece of dirt Dean's holding tightly. Obviously the pervert hadn't stuck to the plan and his ass was probably going to be in even more trouble when they got to wherever the police were going to be holding them for the night. Still, he drops the gun and kicks it away before Dean even has to ask. The man wasn't nearly as stupid as his friend.

"Sammy," Dean says softly. He turns his eyes to Sam for a split second, chocolate brown eyes watching him knowingly before nodding once. Get the gun, get the fuck back next to Dean, he's got it.

He reluctantly lets go of Sam; otherwise how is he going to pick up the gun lying a few feet from him? It's illogical to want to keep Sam so close when he knows the second this is over he'll be pushing him as far away as possible, but it makes him nervous to not be touching Sam right now.

It's what Dean would call pathetic, if anyone else had said what he was thinking. But it isn't someone else and he hasn't said it aloud, so for now he's going to pretend it didn't happen.

He might as well get used to that after today anyway.

xXx

Sam sucks in a sharp breath when the reassuring touch of Dean's hand is gone. It's stupid to be so disappointed about it, he knows Dean won't be doing it again anytime soon. He'll be guilting himself over everything that's happened today until he's physically ill and then he'll just keep going. Guilt is who Dean is. It's always been that way and Sam's crazy if he thought that would change because of a few gentle kisses.

Doing his best to keep his mind on the things Dad's taught him over the years instead of what Dean's taught him in the last few minutes, he moves forward and scoops up the gun. He sticks it in the back of his jeans and crosses to the opposite side of the room, ignoring Dean's questioning gaze.

Sam picks up the phone to the office and hits a random series of buttons, hoping one of them is right. A few seconds later, after a few worthless tries, a woman's voice comes on the line. When she asks for his name, he brushes it aside and tells her just to hurry and send the police to room 211. If he's learned anything in his life it's that you don't give out your name, especially in situations like this.

Hanging up the phone Sam returns to his brother's sides and waits in awkward silence for the police to come and for their escape to be made, leaving behind a classroom of hysterical students to cover their tracks.

xXx

They don't have to wait long, not that Dean expected they would. This is after all a High School shooting and nowadays that's a bigger deal than anyone could have guessed. The police aren't going to be caught slacking on this one, which means, Dean knows, as they burst through the classroom door, that they'll have to be better than their best.

He grabs Sam's hand and drags him backwards; they can't be in the middle of this. It's too risky. They've been taught their whole lives how to stay low and if they screw up now Dad's going to kill them. That is if he doesn't kill him for everything else he's done today. It's a small town and they hadn't been all the discreet with their affections.

Sam's hand is warm in his and reassuring as he quietly leads the way out of the classroom. He can sill hear the now hysterical sounds of teenagers and just below that the men being mirandized. No one's noticed them yet and at this rate they won't ever.

They move quickly through the hall and take the South Hall stairs he'd almost crashed down earlier that morning, two at a time. They skid to a halt in the open area where the South Hall stairs, South Hall, and Main Hall meet. He's worried about how they're going to get out of there but those worries slowly fade as he scans their surroundings. The school looks as if it's already been evacuated and the kids bussed to some unknown place to wait for their parents loving and frantic embrace.

Vending machines are to their right, the South Hall downstairs to their left, a small pond area between that and the Main Hall directly in front of them. Dean racks his brain to remember the layout of the school and all its exits. It's something he's done in every town but has never had to use until now.

The Main Hall is useless to them, filled with dead ends and questionable outcomes. It's a variable trap.

Shit. His mind races faster. Without the Main Hall he's left with the South Hall and open paths that can lead them in circles or to freedom if they choose the right direction. But the South Hall is simpler, he knows and he has to make a decision quick.

Sam tugs on his hand and jerks his head to the left, coming to the same conclusion as Dean. The South Hall is definitely their best bet. Dean follows him, trusting Sam's instincts as much as his own. He knows this school like the back of his hand, probably more than Dean does; he loves the place so much. And he's the one that goes to class pretty much every day. Dean can't say the same.

Easily keeping pace with his brother's long legs they race through the hall, checking classrooms and stairwells as they go for any signs of some authority figure ready to throw a wrench into their plans. Getting busted now was not an option.

Seconds later they're pushing open the double doors at the end of the South Hall and checking all directions. Dean knows that if they cut behind the open hallways, between the add on science rooms and old auto shop they'll come out directly behind the chorus hall and into the student parking lot. The only problem is they're cutting through open areas and locked gates that hold no alternate escape if someone is out there. But what other choice do they have?

Double checking himself, he nods to Sam, and they race ahead, not daring to stop until they're hidden behind what he's pretty sure is the health room and the row of student cars that have overflowed into the grassy area. Dean doesn't let go of Sam until he absolutely has to, and even then it's only to check around the side of the Jeep they'd ducked behind, scanning the parking lot for his baby.

The lot's still packed, every student in the school evacuated, no doubt, by buses. They're going to have to the leave the Impala there until the school reopens, he realizes with a sinking feeling. The main gate is closed, the buses having gone through the back entrance, and trying to find another exit that's actually open is only going to draw more attention to themselves. Suppressing a groan he takes Sam's hand again and leads him back a few feet until they reach the side of the health room.

The gate in the back of that student parking area has a hole just big enough to squeeze through, something Dean's learned from personal experience a time or two. It's just far enough back to be hidden by the various buildings, old auto shop, and student vehicles, that the administration hasn't noticed it yet. Last time he checked anyway, and he's holding out hope that they still haven't.

Breathing a sigh of thankfulness, Dean pushes Sam forward and doesn't waste a second in getting them the hell out of there. Nothing's gone their way today and things are finally starting to look up.


	4. Chapter 4

-Note- Been forever ya'll, sorry! I'm reworkin' all my older stories and starting new ones! My new girlie Nikki and I are working on one together that I think ya'll will love. She's an amazing writer and so funny and I'm proud to be her beta! Just as I'm proud to have Miss Cinnamon as my own! Love you girlie! -Note-

"Go take a shower," Dean instructs, kicking the door shut behind them. Sam smells like sweat and sex and it's driving him crazy. So crazy he can almost swear that he can smell himself on Sam- which is hurting more than helping. He only has so much will power and Sam's testing it to the point of breaking.

Sam keeps chewing on his bottom lip and shutting his eyes against whatever memories he's reliving. Dean knows they're probably bad memories that Sam wants desperately to forget but the way Dean's looking at Sam now, it makes him think of much dirtier things.

Sam looks at him curiously but nods; he knows better than to argue now. Dean looks anything but pleasant at the moment. His own desire and anger overflowing onto anyone and anything. He doesn't want to take that out on Sam but if Sam doesn't get moving Dean's going to forget how much he shouldn't.

"Now," Dean says louder when Sam stands there staring at him.

His brother scowls at him and leaves the room. Dean waits in the living room until he hears the faint sound of the shower before heading towards their bedroom, not wanting to risk the possibility of an awkward situation, any more awkward than they already are. The image of Sam naked, water sliding down his body hits Dean square between the eyes and he feels his knees quake. He leans heavily against the wall and swallows the bile rising in his throat. His body's aching for release, teased beyond the point of pain by Sam's thrusting hips and sharp cries.

_'That's your little brother,'_ Dean scolds himself. _ 'What the hell is the matter with you?'_

Dean pushes off the wall and quickly strips. He can smell Sam on him, his come and sweat staining his jeans. Hurriedly Dean buries them at the bottom of the dirty clothes, making plans to wash them as soon as possible without arousing Dad's suspicions. He grabs clean clothes and heads down the hall towards Dad's bathroom, desperate to forget and stops suddenly.

Swearing under his breath Dean throws his clothes on and heads out to the living room to see what's on T.V. He still smells like Sam and as much as he hates that, he can't bring himself to get rid of it right now. It was hard enough for him to change clothes knowing how it felt to be with Sam when he let go. As for the aching need in his body, well he's just going to have to learn to ignore that too.

xXx

Scowling, Sam slams the bathroom door shut behind him and strips down. He knows why Dean wanted him to shower now, he can smell it as he pulls his shirt over his head. If Dad came home to that he'd kill them both. It wouldn't be too hard for Dad to put two and two together. They were both disheveled, not talking, and smelled like the other. Not to mention the stains on Sam's pants, he notices them as he kicks them to the side. Dean's probably got some nice stains of his own.

He flips the shower on and sinks beneath the hot spray. He's so confused and tense- he feels like he should be running in circles until he passes out or something. That would be pretty hard to explain though, to Dad or Dean. Not that he gives a damn.

Besides, today's left him with so many questions Sam wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't manage to run a full circle. He's come so hard today- not once but twice- he's amazed he can even stand, let alone walk or string together coherent sentences. Not that Sam's really tried since they left the school but still, he's fairly certain he could manage a halfway coherent sentence without making himself look like too big of a fool. He just wouldn't exactly bet his life on it.

Sam runs his hands through his hair and tilts his head back further into the spray. He's starting to feel boneless and fucked out again, only now it doesn't feel as good as it did the first time around. Mainly because now Sam feels more used than loved.

Today's a lot to deal with on his own and even harder to deal with, with Dean. Who, Sam's sure, is watching T.V. and pretending the whole day never happened. Dean goes to bars, he flirts with girls, he gets laid. Today wasn't that new to him, not the acts anyway, just the partner. Like the rest, Sam's just as easily ignored or forgotten.

Sex, is sex, younger brother or not. Too bad that reasoning wouldn't hold up long with Dean or Sam might actually know what it's like to have his brother inside him. As it is, he'll be lucky to have Dean look at him again. Touching Sam again is a very, very slim possibility.

xXx

It's a few hours more before Dad comes home and calls Sam out to the living room with Dean.

Dad walks into the apartment calm as ever. His gaze lands on Dean first, then searches the room over for Sam.

"He's in his room," Dean says, not taking his eyes off the T.V. He's hoping that Dad hasn't heard about what happened at school, but knows there's little chance of that. Still, playing it cool is his best bet.

"I heard about what happened at school today," Dad says, moving to block the T.V. Dad's once again managed to touch on the one thing Dean would like to forget.

Dean brings his gaze reluctantly up to his father. "Yeah? They find out what the guy wanted?" Best to find out what Dad knows first before he goes and blows everything.

Dad nods. "His name was Shane Moore, he'd just gotten out of jail along with his buddy Blake Askins. Moore was convicted of sexual assault: lost his family, his wife and kids of course."

"You mean he was there looking for his _kid_?" Dean asks incredulously. The pervert that had watched Sam and Dean do unspeakable things, even knowing they were brothers, was there to get his kid? Dean's stomach flip-flops but he keeps quiet. It's ironic that the one thing Dean has always wanted is what's destroyed him-family.

"One of them. Askins came along to help. Apparently Moore didn't know enough about his friend or he probably never would have taken him along." Dean's gaze turns curious and before he can ask Dad goes on "Askins was in prison for making child pornography, and according to Moore: Askins was the one that screwed things up. They were just supposed to grab his kid and go. Instead Askins took a room full of students hostage," Dad pauses. "I'm sure you already knew that though."

Dean nods. So it was his buddy that was the pervert. Great choice in friends. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes and glances over his shoulder when he hears Sam enter the room. It's the first time he's seen Sam since Dean ordered him into the shower. Sam's dark hair is still wet and plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed and chocolate brown eyes nervously locked on Dad. Dean's stomach flip flops again and his breath stutters. Hours apart, a shower, and denial haven't done a thing to ease the ache Dean has for his brother.

"Yeah?" Sam asks.

"Sam, sit down."

They both freeze then, Sam staring at Dad and Dean staring at Sam. Why did he want Sam to sit down? Dad was okay with things wasn't he? He hadn't seemed worried or disgusted when he walked through the door. As far as Dean can tell Dad only knows the basics, what the cops know. Dad doesn't know what half a dozen kids saw him do with Sam. Dad also doesn't know what Askins watched them do while Moore was out looking for his kid in some insane effort to get his old life back, or, at least his family.

Dad glances between them, "Sam?"

Sam nods, quickly regaining his senses and moves to sit next to Dean. They manage to keep as much distance between them as possible, without seeming suspicious. They want this conversation over as quickly as possible. Dean knows he does at least and if Sam's shallow breathing is any indication- he does too.

Dean listens quietly as Dad explains what Moore and Askins were doing at school today, watches out of the corner of his eye as Sam nods at all the right times but doesn't ask any questions. Dean's pretty sure that Sam heard the end of their conversation and has no questions other than, 'why him?' And no one can answer that.

xXx

Sam leans back into the couch, his heart racing. He hadn't expected to be pulled out here and forced to sit next to Dean. He thought Dad would be worried and ask questions about today, make sure they were okay and then move on. Not start a sharing circle, which is exactly how it feels right now: all suffocation and big questions.

He can feel Dean next to him, his own body just as stiff and Sam bets his heart is racing too. That, or Dean's stomach is churning- maybe both. But Dean manages to pull off both calm and cool perfectly, his face schooled into that of perfect interest and concentration as Dad talks. Exactly the way he knows Dad likes it.

Sam's face isn't so put together. It's as empty as he feels. Not that Sam hadn't tried for curiosity or disbelief because he has and somewhere he even feels those things. Those feelings are just buried beneath the confusion and unsettling urge to reach over and take Dean's hand in his own.

It's not the fact that he wants to take Dean's hand in his that's unsettling, he's long since come to terms with the fact that he's in love with his older brother; it's the fact that he wants to do it now after everything that's happened and worst of all- in front of Dad.

He forces himself to pay attention to Dad's words instead of the rise and fall of Dean's chest, or the way Dean's mouth parts on a breath. After hours of showering and homework that hasn't been assigned yet, Sam had hoped that he could get through seeing Dean without wanting to jump his bones. Obviously, that isn't going to be happening any time soon.

Dad's telling him about what happened to today, or what Dad thinks happened today, anyway. It seems no one's talked about what happened in that room or what they saw; the kids in his class wanting to keep that first kiss as secret as much as the Winchester brothers. Sam knows why_ they_ want to keep it secret but not why his classmates do. It's the dirtiest bit of gossip to hit that school since the math teacher knocked up three of his students a few years back and they're _still_ talking about that.

It feels like hours before Dad's gaze is off him and back on Dean. He isn't surprised that Dad's turned to Dean for the details, Sam's not being much help right now with his tight lipped and dazed expression- he just wants this to end. He wants to go back to showering or homework or whatever else he can think of to keep himself busy for as long as possible.

Content with the fact that Dean's in control now, Sam leans back into the couch and stares up at the ceiling. What else is there to do besides count the number of rotations the fan blades make until he can breathe again?

xXx

Dad sits in the chair next to the couch, crushing Dean's hopes for silence and space once he's finished explaining today's bizarre events.

"What happened out there, son?" Dad asks, his voice low and filled with concern.

It's the first time Dean can ever really remember Dad being concerned about them. At least since the night mom died. They're Winchesters: they're strong and capable. Dad's never needed to be concerned before, right? Not when Dean's there to watch out for Sam and Dad's trained his boys to handle any situation that he could think of.

So Dean gives him a half grin and hides the pain and fear that he hasn't been able to shake since that afternoon. "Nothing we couldn't handle," Dean says with false confidence. So far they weren't handling anything. "We got out of there before the police even noticed us."

Dean knows that piece of information will distract Dad, will make him proud that his boys had enough sense to get the hell out of there- and that's all Dean wants Dad to know, all he wants him to ask about. Today's been too complicated to say much else and Dean doesn't even want to try.

Dean watches Dad as his gaze shifts to Sam, doubting Dean's calm reassurance. He resists the urge to elbow his brother into agreement. Relief washing over him when Sam nods and says, "Nothing we couldn't handle."

Sam's voice is a little off and distant but that's Sam. He's always like that when that big brain of his is working. Dad knows it too so he accepts that and nods. He pushes to his feet and claps a hand to Dean's shoulder.

"I'm glad you two are all right but maybe we should think about leaving."

"No!" Dean protests a little too quickly. He clears his throat and smiles again. "We can't leave during a job, Dad. Especially not over two idiots. It's not a big deal. Really."

Dad stares down at him, his mouth pulled into a frown and Dean swallows hard. For a second he's afraid Dad's going to disagree with him and insist they leave. That's not what Dean wants. Not now when things are so messed up. Not only that but Dean knows how much Sam wants to stay in one school-even if today has royally fucked them. It's a gesture Dean hopes Sam will recognize and will help ease them back into things.

Dad sighs but nods, giving in. "Okay, if you two are sure."

"We are," Dean replies immediately, shooting Sam a pointed look. He wants Sam to get it, to accept this and let Dean know that they're going to be okay somehow.

"Yeah," Sam says half heartedly, standing up. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Dean lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding and silently thanks Sam. It was a half hearted acceptance but acceptance all the same and that means that Dean's not the only one looking for a way through this.

They both watch Sam as he leaves the room in a daze, nearly walking into the wall. Dad shakes his head; they've seen him do that so many times Dean's often wondered if they should start padding the walls. When Sam's mind is on repeat, he can't be bothered to pay attention to anything. It's a miracle Sam can shower without finding a way to drown himself.

Dean stands up. "I'm going to bed. Long day, ya know?"

"Night, son," Dad says having already turned his back to Dean. He's flipping through his journal for some piece of information he's missed, no longer interested in how his son's are doing- at least that's the way it feels. Dean tries to squash the resentment rising in him and heads for their bedroom. _'Nothing happened, as far as Dad knows,'_ Dean tells himself. _'Why should he be worried?'_They were the ones that had decided to keep Dad out of today, Dean can't fault him for not being more concerned about the things he doesn't know.

As satisfied as Dean's going to be with that answer, he shuts the bedroom door behind him, thankful for the darkness of the room. He kicks off his shoes and pulls his shirt over his head. Dean's tired and he just wants to sleep. To forget the way it had felt to be with Sam, to hold him and kiss him like that. To know that if that bozo hadn't been there watching, things could have gone so much further. Dean wanted to forget not knowing which one was worse: that things had gone that far, or not enough.

With a deep sigh Dean climbs into bed and pulls the pillow over his head. Sleep. That's all he needs.

xXx

Sam turns the shower on as hot as he can stand it and tilts his face up to it. He lets the water rush over him, turning every inch of skin bright pink. The stinging heat of the water is reassuring and melts away the tension in his body. The shower earlier had done the same but it hadn't been enough. Sam isn't sure how many showers it will take to get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach or the tension in his muscles but he's going to keep trying. Anything he has to do to forget this and protect Dean.

He sighs and moves further under the steady stream of water. He knows his performance out there wasn't nearly as convincing as Dean's but he couldn't help it. He's not the King of Denial, like his brother is. Besides that, he has a lot on his mind and he knows they can understand.

He stands there until he's half asleep and the waters turning cool. Reluctantly he shuts off the water and climbs out. Sam's wondering if he'll even make it to his bed before he's asleep and either way he hopes Dean's not there. That he's helping Dad research or out on a date, anything as long as he's not in their room.

Pulling on his boxers he makes his way quietly to their shared bedroom. The door's shut and he can't remember if he did that earlier or not. Shrugging he pushes open the door and feels his stomach drop as his gaze lands on his brother's still form. Dean's laying on top of his blankets, pillow pulled over his head and wearing only his boxers.

Swallowing hard Sam forces himself to close the door and cross the room to his own bed. Of all the nights for Dean to be sleeping on his blankets it has to be tonight where Sam can see every inch of tan skin he'd had his hands on only hours ago; had _tasted_ only hours ago.

Sam's suddenly cold now as he climbs into his own bed, the draw of Dean's warmth growing stronger. He pulls the sheets over himself and prays for sleep, or some form of unconsciousness so long as he can forget his brother for longer than a record breaking ten seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

Saying that school is awkward now, is kind of like saying it only hurts to breathe a little when Dean's near him…or far away.

It's more than awkward.

Then again: a classroom full of your peers watching you kiss your older brother before being forced into another classroom isn't exactly something everyone's used to seeing. Especially not when Sam had enjoyed it so much.

Word has spread quickly after that day. Instead of the admiring glances the girls had sent him before, he gets looks of disgust and confusion from everyone. Whispers and rumors. Everyone is talking about it except for him and Dean; the two people who need to talk about it the most. But ever talking to Dean about his feelings, is like trying to talk to a brick wall. It's pointless; a waste of breath and this time will hurt too damn much to try.

Sam slides from his seat and makes his way out of the classroom with his gaze firmly locked on his shoes. He can't stand to see those looks anymore, to know that their feelings are the same as Dean's. There are few times in Sam's life when he isn't confused about things or how to be normal, but now is different. He doesn't have Dean to rely on, to keep him from living in that confusion, instead of just running into it now and then. This confusion is total and complete, taking over every minute of his day.

Sam's attention is so focused on his shoes as he makes his way down the hall he doesn't notice Jake Spencer until he slams into him. Blonde hair, blue green eyes-he's one of the most popular kids in the school and the biggest moron Sam's ever known. Jake's also one of the few kids in school who has a height advantage over him, even if it is only by two or three inches. Height aside, Sam is still relatively undeveloped and outweighed by at least fifty pounds. This is a fight most in his shoes would walk away from out of fear for their life but Sam isn't most.

He isn't afraid of Jake, he just doesn't use any excuse possible to fight like Dean does. He's the more rational of the Winchesters, surprisingly enough. At least when it comes to things outside of their family life. Normally Sam would have found a way out of this, anything other than fight unless it was absolutely necessary.

But staring up at the older boy, the past month's events steadily build up inside of him and he snaps. All the pain and anger he's been doing his best to fight off takes over him and before he knows what's happening, his fist is covered in blood and his left cheek stings. By now the few watchers that had gathered in the beginning have become a full blown crowd, encircling the two panting boys.

Jake's nose is bent at an odd angle, blood covering his face and letting Sam know exactly whose blood it is on his fist. Jake glares at Sam, his jaw clenching at the embarrassment he's sure to be feeling. He's just been decked by Sam Winchester, the boy in love with his older brother.

Whatever rumors are true, the one about Sam's being a pansy is not. He can fight without question. If only they knew just how true that is- but they don't and never will and truth be told: Sam doesn't really give a damn. He doesn't give a damn about what they have to say at all. What hurts, what makes things unbearable, is knowing that at the end of the day he doesn't have anyone to go home to. He has no one that will understand what is happening to him. He just has no one.

Suddenly Dean's there and he's pulling Sam off of the other boy. "The hell Sam?" Dean demands, shoving him back another step as Sam makes an attempt for the boy just beyond Dean.

Dean unlike Sam, is not considered a freak. His reputation hasn't been damaged in the least; in fact he's more popular than before- if that's even possible. All they remember about Dean is that he had fought to protect his younger brother and the other kids in that classroom. He had after all gotten them out of the whole mess. The fact that Sam had helped meant little. All they remember of him is the way he had clung to his older brother and seemed to enjoy the forced kiss a little too much. It had only taken a day of this hero worship thrown Dean's way for Sam to realize why no one had said anything to the authorities or any other adult. They all respected Dean too much to ruin his reputation or cause him any more trouble than he already at home with his sick younger brother.

Walking down the halls day after day isn't torture for Dean. They don't look at him funny or try their best to stay away from him as if he's contagious. He walks down the hall with Kacey wrapped tightly around him, his buddies clapping him on the shoulder while he shoots off smart ass remarks. Things have gotten better for Dean, while things have gotten much, much worse for Sam.

Right now only proves that fact more as Dean keeps between the angry boys; Kacey and his friends standing to the side watching anxiously as if ready to step in at any time. Even with Dean standing in the center of the crowd all disgusted looks are directed at Sam, a few sympathetic looks making their way to Dean before unavoidably returning to glare at him.

It's never his fault, huh?

Dean's the only that seems to see it that way.

Sam refuses to meet his brother's warning gaze, instead choosing to glare at Jake over Dean's shoulder. The older boy returns his glare, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides but he makes no move. As long as Dean's there Jake doesn't dare do anything other than glare and even that's pushing it.

Dean is saying something to him about getting suspended, teachers, proving Dad right…something, but Sam can't focus enough to understand it all. All he can think about is how good it had felt to hit Jake, to let that anger out on him. Sam feels lighter than he has since this whole mess got started.

Sam goes stiff as he feels Dean's hand land on his shoulder. He tears his eyes from Jake's and spares a brief glance at his brother before jerking back. Dean's watching him warily, looking at Sam more like he's on a hunt than looking at his younger brother. Sam snatches his back pack up from the floor and leaves, ignoring Dean's calls. He waits until he rounds the corner before he breaks out into a full run.

It's probably a good thing that Dean stepped in when he did, otherwise Sam isn't sure how far things would have gone. No one else had tried to stop things, more than likely thinking that someone like Jake could take Sam with no trouble. If their short lived scuffle hadn't proven them otherwise then Sam's sure he'll get another chance soon enough to prove it. Dean isn't always going to be around and they'll figure that out eventually, know exactly when Dean is gone or too far away for him to stop things. Today hadn't been well planned because it had been an accident. Sam had walked into Jake and suddenly they were bloody and panting.

Sam pushes through a set of glass double doors at the school's font exit, stumbling when he forgets the short drop. He quickly regains his footing and jumps over the three short steps leading to the sidewalk. School's still in full swing and he's not sure where he thinks he's going to go. He's in front of the school and dead center between the library and the office. Going home wasn't much of an option in the first place. Dad might be there, or Dean may be coming after him and home is the first place he'll look.

Shrugging off his doubts when panic begins to creep through him, Sam races to his right, past the library and out onto the sidewalk from the back way instead of risking being spotted by someone in the office.

Sam can just see it now, one of the AP's stopping him and writing him up. If he's really lucky, one of them would notice the blood or his distressed state, maybe both and probably send him to the school shrink where he can sit wordlessly until Dean and/or Dad is called in or until he blurts out the fact that he's in love with his older brother and everyone in school already knows that. Well except the teachers and maybe Dean.

Ha, then of course there's the school resource officer. They could send Sam there instead of the shrink, depending on just how much blood he has on him. That would be a great conversation: explaining that he's covered in Jake Spencer's blood out of disgust and love for his brother. One way or another it all came back to Dean and Sam can't deal with that.

Sam thinks he can hear Dean calling after him but he's not sure. It doesn't matter anyway, he isn't stopping for Dean. Not now. Sam's the one that wants this conversation, sure, but right now he isn't ready for it. He's too emotionally charged and there's no telling what he might blurt out. So he does what he can and he runs blindly away from his wants and fears.

It isn't long before his legs and his lungs feel like they're on fire and after another ten blocks or so Sam feels his legs give out. Barely managing to catch himself before he hits the pavement, Sam drops to his knees behind some commercial building he hasn't even noticed before. Panting, Sam drags himself further back behind the building to provide himself with more cover and lets his head drop back against the cement wall.

Sam closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing, the aching in his lungs quickly spreading through the rest of his body. The adrenaline is wearing off and all that's left is the desperation and confusion Sam's been fighting back for the past few weeks. Flashes of the fight, his fist connecting with Jake's nose- that Sam's sure is broken, his fist being pulled back again to inflict as much damage as possible, then suddenly there's Dean.

Dean standing between them, pushing Sam back, staring worriedly at him. He can hear Dean's voice as he tries to reason with Sam, tell him that fighting isn't like him, that this isn't Sam. The memory of Dean's voice and gentle hands on his shoulders has him sighing and relaxing against the wall. Dean's right of course- fighting isn't like Sam. Not unless it's necessary, not unless it's to protect himself or Dean.

That day has twisted him up and made him into someone he's not. He's not even sure if the day has had the same affect on Dean. In all honesty, all he can remember of Dean these past few weeks is physical things: the smirks, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and the slow drag of teeth afterward. Sam can't remember if Dean's been acting normal at home or not. He can't remember if Dad's asked Dean if he's okay, or if he's even asked Sam if Dean's okay. Because if he did, it's not like Sam could answer that. He's been too caught up in his confusion to notice.

Oh, Sam's noticed that Dean doesn't talk to him like he used to. He's noticed that Dean hasn't touched him and that Dean hasn't really looked his way more than necessary either but, he doesn't know how much of that is Dean's fault or his own. Neither of them has tried to talk about it and Sam hasn't made much of an effort either. He's waited around for Dean to do it, for Dean, the one who thinks of emotions as weakness, the one who wouldn't say a goddamn word if he was aching or sick unless it was absolutely necessary, to start a conversation solely about their feelings. It's insanity, really. Sam has to be the one to start the conversation and sitting there, cursing his stupidity while fighting back hyperventilation, Sam decides to give it a shot tonight.

It's not like there's much left for him to lose, anyway.

xXx

Dean laughs at whatever Kacey says, his buddies playing right along. Truthfully he's sick of the girl. She's vapid and shallow, no substance at all and he can't stand to listen to her incessant dribble. Not that Dean's going to admit that he gives a damn about any of that out loud. Especially not with what happened nearly a month ago. Kissing his younger brother in front of a classroom full of his peers and then dumping his girlfriend would raise more than a few questions that Dean's not sure he'll ever be ready to answer.

Stopping at Kacey's locker, he leans back against it and shuts his eyes. He doesn't even have to respond anymore for Kacey to be happy. She's simply thrilled to have him on her arm when they're walking down the hall or having all his attention whenever another girl comes around, or of course Sam. She's insanely jealous of Sam and Dean knows she has every reason to be, but no right to. He doesn't belong to Kacey and he never will.

Fingers wrap around his wrist and he's off the lockers in a second, instincts kicking in to defend himself. It's only Marty he realizes seconds before knocking his friend on his ass. He grins awkwardly at Marty and shrugs.

"What's up, man?" Dean asks smoothly. He's been more on edge since that day and it's not the first time he's nearly kicked a friend's ass. Marty eyes him warily but seems to accept Dean's unspoken apology. "Check it out." He nods towards a small crowd that's growing by the second.

Dean frowns and then rolls his eyes, heaving an impatient sigh as he realizes what's drawing in so many drooling idiots. Like there hasn't been enough drama or violence the past month, now there are idiots fighting in the middle of the hall. As usual- instead of someone stopping it, everyone's standing around and gawking like a bunch of morons. He figures he better break it up because if he doesn't no one will. Dean seriously doubts anyone's even gone to find an AP or an oblivious teacher to try. The kids in this school are so starved for the drama of their favorite teen sitcoms that they'll do anything just to keep a fight going.

Dean hears the sick sound of bone snapping and decides that he definitely has to step in now. He can't just walk away and let some kid get his ass kicked. Well, maybe he can; it depends on just who's getting their ass kicked.

He pushes his way through the throng of onlookers only to find himself as slack jawed as the rest. What the _hell_? Dean's sure his eyes are playing tricks on him because he _knows _that this can't be his younger brother fighting in the middle of the hallway. Sam never fights, he gives Dean dirty looks and lectures after every fight he's ever caught Dean in. Unless of course it's to protect someone else, then Sam gives Dean that girly, misty eyed look where he breaks out the puppy dog eyes and a silly grin that belongs only on the drunkest of drunks. Dean kind of likes it when Sam gets like that, but he's about as ready to admit that as he is his feelings about Kacey.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he rushes forward and catches Sam's fist mid swing before he can make the same mistake Dean's made a thousand times. Sam stares dumfounded for a split second before shaking Dean's hand off and lunging at the other boy, dead set on repeating the past.

"The hell, Sam?" Dean demands, pushing Sam back. This isn't his brother, it can't be. He's never seen Sam like this, so angry and physical. Sam hates people like this, he hates when someone gets unnecessarily hurt. Sam can't be in his right mind or he would never do this. He would do everything in his power to keep from fighting.

Dean glances over his shoulder at the boy Sam's so desperate to finish off and realizes the kid's not only taller than Sam but he's got to outweigh his younger brother by a good fifty pounds or so.

Whatever this kid's done has to be pretty bad for Sam to lose it the way he has and that alone makes Dean want to forget his half crazed younger brother and kick the blonde's ass him self. Doing that though would mean two Winchesters without any idea what reality was anymore and let loose on a hallway full of clueless teenagers. For once Dean's going to have to be the coolheaded one here.

"This isn't like you, man!" Dean hisses. "Do you _want_ to get suspended? Because it's only a matter of time before some teacher catches you kickin' this guy's ass. Then what are you going to do, Sam? Huh?" Sam doesn't answer him, he doesn't even seem to be listening. Sam's too busy glaring at the blonde boy just behind Dean which not only pisses him off and scares him but makes him sickeningly jealous.

"You're just proving Dad right, Sam," Dean tries, knowing his brother hates it when Dad's right and he's wrong. Dean's desperate to get Sam's attention back on him for reasons he's not even going to pretend he understands. "He wants to take you out of this school, wants to move again. That's not what you want, is it?" Dean drops his voice. Sam's upset and he's not so stupid as to miss the fact that it's got something to do with what neither of them is talking about.

Sighing, Dean steps forward and places a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam," he asks tentatively. "What are you doing?"

Dean considers begging for a second, knowing full well Sam will respond to that with such speed it'll make both their heads spin, but he forgets that idea before his mind can start churning out the dirty images that follow. Only usually in his fantasies he's not the one begging.

Anger isn't going to work well either though. Sam's too pissed off to respond to that with anything other than submission or the kind of fear that sends even Sam running away. Which means that Dean's completely out of his element here. He's never been on this end of a fight before, least of all with Sam-who he hasn't talked to in weeks, not properly.

Finally Sam's eyes flicker away from the blonde's and back to Dean's for a split second, just long enough to flood Dean with mind numbing warmth and then suddenly Sam's running away. The fear that Dean was so afraid would force Sam away from him if he reacted with anger- is obviously already there; Sam was just too far gone to process it until his slow descent back into reality began.

"Sam!" Dean calls after him. "Sammy, c'mon, man!"

It isn't that bad, it can't be as long as they're still there with each other. Things are strained, sure but they've been through a lot in their short years and how the hell are they going to let something like this tear them apart, after everything?

He watches as Sam runs away from him and can't seem to make himself go after him right away. Dean's just too surprised that Sam's running away from _him_ to do much else but stare and call uselessly after his unhearing brother.

Kacey moves up behind him as the crowd slowly starts to disperse and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his. Maybe it's meant to be comforting but it feels more like suffocating. Swearing under his breath Dean pushes Kacey's eager hands away and chases after Sam, his senses thankfully returning quicker than his brother's. It isn't hard for Dean to see Sam's not going back to class, his next class is Algebra 2 honors and it's in the South Hall upstairs, not the Main Hall where Sam disappeared. Where the hell does he think he's going to go? School's not out yet and the only other place they've got is home. Dad's probably there and that would be Sam's biggest mistake today.

Dean weaves through the packed hallway and pushes through the main doors. Scanning the front of the school quickly, he jumps over the remaining steps and heads behind the library. Sam's not dumb enough to announce to the administration that he's taking off, even if he's practically announced it to half the student body. It's the only way Sam could have gone, but he's not there now. Dean scowls and checks up and down the sidewalk a few more times.

The past few weeks haven't been so easy for him either. He shares a room with Sam. He knows how rough it is. Waking up each morning, either to find his younger brother gone or too exhausted to even move after countless sleepless nights and quick morning escapes. Sam would be stretched out across his bed and completely dead to the world, his face is buried underneath the pillow, one hand pressed against his chest.

It's the mornings that Sam's gone though- that are the worst. Dean knows how tired Sam must be, how worn down. It also means that Sam probably didn't sleep the previous night, at all. Dean feels guilty that he manages to sleep most nights. But it's only the fact that by staying away from Sam, he's keeping him safe, that it even happens. It doesn't make his heart ache any less or things any easier but he deals. A hell of a lot better than Sam does. He's sure of it now.

Shoveling his fingers through his hair Dean lets out a shaky breath and heads back to the school to get the Impala and then it's home for him. He's not going to do anything in class but worry about Sam anyway, he'd rather be far from Kacey and that damn school while he worries, than trapped in some classroom filled with whispering students.

Dean was worried when they came back to school that students would react badly to the kiss he'd shared with Sam but so far no one's said anything to him. They whisper, sure, but they don't treat him any differently. Better maybe, if he really thought about it but nothing that stands out to him. Dean wants to ask Sam if he's okay, if people are treating him any differently but every time Dean opens his mouth to ask and sees the sadness in Sam's eyes he just can't bring himself to do it. His breath catches in his throat and he forgets everything but the taste of Sam's skin and the content slump of his body against Dean's.

Yeah, the past few weeks have been hell for him. He can't even pretend to know what Sam's going through, but he can't bring himself to ask or do what Sam needs him to do either-and that's face up to his feelings.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Miss. Cinnamon, you are amazing. Not that you need to be reminded. ;) But you sure as hell deserve it! Reviews, ya'll? Pretty please?

Dean's home a few hours before Sam drags himself in through the door, the sound of his backpack crashing into the wall is the give away. Dean doesn't make a move to let Sam know he's there too. His brother probably saw the Impala anyway, and if he wants something he'll come to Dean.

It's another hour or so before Sam does just that.

"Are we ever going to talk about this?" Sam asks quietly, leaning against the bedroom door frame.

"About what, Sam?"

Dean swallows hard and licks his lips, forcing his mind away from the images that have been plaguing him for the past few weeks. Hell no, they aren't going to talk about it. He can't talk about it. That day has been too much for him to handle.

"About this stupid tension between us. Are we ever going to be brothers again or do you just plan on hating me until I go away to college?"

Dean snorts. "You're questioning my feelings for you when _you're _the one leaving me? Whatever dude."

"I'm not leaving _you!_" Sam yells, slamming his fist into the wall. "Not that you would even notice. You haven't looked at me since that day anyway."

"Bull."

"Right. That's why you're staring at the wall instead of me."

Dean shifts his gaze to his brother, trying to keep a lid on the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He knows that Sam's right, but at the same time he's completely wrong. Dean hasn't looked at him in weeks because he's afraid of all the feelings it brings rushing back. All the sensory memory of that day. It's more than he can handle and he hates to admit how weak he is. Especially to Sam.

xXx

Dean looks at him now, but he doesn't. Sam can tell he's not seeing him. That he's thinking of something, maybe even someone else. His heart jumps painfully in his chest at that thought. It shouldn't surprise him though; Dean's always been good at moving on. Person to person, town to town. It's all the same to him. Only now he's made a mistake- he's picked one of the only people he's actually stuck with to fuck around with.

It might be more than that though, Sam realizes, watching Dean's impassive face. It's not just that he's stuck with Sam and all his emo shit, or even the disgust that he'd touched his brother the way he had. Sam feels like maybe there's something more to it than that.

"Do you hate me now?" Sam asks, cringing as he realizes how much of a whimper that sounds like. He doesn't want to sound weak and he doesn't want Dean to take pity on him. He just wants the truth. "I said I was sorry, Dean. I only did it because I was afraid he'd hurt you." That's the truth for the most part. Even if he hadn't enjoyed it he still would have done it to protect Dean. So he isn't really lying.

xXx

"Fuck," Dean hisses, crossing the room and pulling Sam into his arms before he can stop himself. "I don't hate you, Sammy." It was easy to tell himself it was better to stay away and it was easy to tell himself that Sam wasn't feeling things, but when his younger brother asked if Dean hated him, it wasn't easy to remember those things.

Sam buries his face into Dean's shoulder and wraps his arms loosely around him. Dean tightens his grip on Sam and presses his face into his brother's hair. Sam looks so small, and that's ridiculous. He's as tall as Dean and shows no signs of stopping. Sam doesn't look small or weak: he's stubborn and serious. Dean hasn't seen him look any other way since they were kids.

"Everything's different now," Sam murmurs against his shoulder. "Even Dad's starting to notice. And I hate it. I hate not having you."

"You do have me, Sam. You'll always have me."

Sam snorts. "Like these past few weeks? I'm starting to forget what a brother is."

"I think I already forgot," Dean says quietly. He knows what Sam means and he knows that they're seeing things completely different. Sam means that they aren't close like they used to be, there's no more talking or joking around, or shared glances. It's silences and awkward talk when they have to.

Dean's forgotten how to look at Sam like a brother. Now when he looks at him, he sees someone he can spend the rest of his life worshipping and loving. In the most inappropriate ways, of course.

xXx

Sam stiffens. That day has messed everything up between them. It had felt so right to be with Dean, to kiss him and touch him. He'd thought his brother had felt it too, the way he'd been talking to him, promising to make it good for him. But then Dean had shut him out completely. Sam almost wishes that Dean hadn't gotten there in time that day; that he had faced things on his own. At least then he'd still have his brother.

"That's the problem, Sammy. It's not you."

Not him? Was Dean joking? Everything about that day and what happened after is his fault. He handled everything all wrong.

"It is me," he protests. "How could it not be me? I made you-"

"You didn't make me do anything!" Dean snaps, gripping his brother's shoulders roughly and giving him a shake. "None of this was your fault."

"I did. I guilt tripped you, I told you I needed you. I _made _you do those things even though I knew you didn't want to. I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't help it, Dean. I did need you. I still need you." He lays it all out on the table. There's no point in hiding it. Things are so screwed between them there's nothing Sam can say to make it worse, and he knows it. He hates it, but it's his life.

"The hell Sam?" his brother hisses. "What if Dad heard you say that?"

"I don't care what he hears! It's the truth." Dad's always been down on him. Always pushing and doing what he can to make Sam more like Dean, to listen and obey like Dean does. To find out that his youngest son is in love with his oldest probably wouldn't even surprise him.

xXx

Dean shakes his head and resists the urge to check for Dad. It will only make Sam angrier and do something they'll probably both regret. Like tell Dad what's been going on for the past few weeks. Sam will get over this, like everything else. He's just confused.

"You don't know what you're saying, Sam," Dean insists. Half out of desperation and half out of fear.

Sam snorts. "I'm pretty sure we already went over the not being a baby. I do have a mind of my own."

"I know that. Believe me," Dean mutters. Sam's proven that one enough times. In fact it's written all over his neck and shoulders in the form of blood bruises that still haven't faded.

"But you can't know what you're saying."

"Why Dean? Because you feel it too?"

"Sam," he warns. He's only so damn strong, can't Sam understand that?

Sam sighs and presses his face into Dean's neck. "I don't want you to hate me, but I can't help the way you make me feel. Just tell me what I have to say to fix this."

Dean echoes his sigh and runs gentle hands through Sam's hair. There are no words to fix this, none that he knows of. And he isn't good at this, anyway, at comforting. The only thing he's ever known is actions. And actions, comforting ones especially, are dangerous for them.

"Boys?" Dad's voice breaks through their heavy silence.

Dean freezes; his hand mid-stroke. Neither of them had heard the front door and Dean's not sure that it really matters. He lifts his face from Sam's neck and tries to keep the different thoughts and emotions from showing on his face. The last thing he needs is Dad knowing what happened. There's enough tension and confusion between the two of them. He doesn't want that day to screw up his entire family, though he's afraid it already has.

"Dad," Dean says quietly.

Sam tries to pull back but Dean just tightens his grip on his brother, letting him know that it's all right. They aren't doing anything wrong, it's a little weird maybe, standing half in their bedroom and half in the hallway, arms wrapped around each other. but it wasn't wrong.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispers promisingly. "We'll get through this."

Sam clings to Dean for a minute, ignoring his father's questioning gaze, and then slowly pulls back. "Will we, Dean?" Sam takes a step back and shakes his head. "I don't think we will. Not this time."

"Sammy," Dean sighs, reaching out to stroke his hair. The only thing he can think to do for Sam. To comfort him when he has no words, when there _are_ no words.

xXx

Sam shoves his hand away and steps around him, heading for the front door. There's no way things can go back to the way they were before. Not that either brother wants things to be this way. It just isn't something you can forget and move on from. How do you forget touching your brother that way? Forget kissing him, holding him, begging him to make love to you? How can Dean forget those things either?

They can't.

And they can't get through this. As much as it kills Sam, they just can't.

He doesn't know where he's going, doesn't know how the hell it's going to help, but he does know that if he doesn't get out of there before the questions start flying they aren't going to have any secrets anymore. From anyone.

Passing by the Impala Sam feels guilt and disgusts as he remembers this afternoon, walking home slowly, only to find the Impala already in the apartment's parking lot. He'd stopped to run a hand over the heated black frame until he came to the driver side window, rolled down and the sun heating the leather interior. Sam had leaned down, breathing in the smell of heat, leather, and Dean. And then he'd spent the next twenty minutes breathing heavily and trying to wish away the hard on he'd got just from that thought alone.

And now isn't any different.

xXx

"Sam!" Dean calls, watching as the apartment door slams shut behind his little brother. He's fucked up again, driving Sam away because it's the only thing he knows.

"Dean what's going on?"

He growls quietly and shakes his head. What the hell is he supposed to tell Dad? Dad doesn't know what happened that day. No one's said a word about it since and there'll never come a day when that needs to change.

"Rough day," Dean finally grunts.

"Well then he won't be so upset to know we're leaving."

Dean whirls around. "What?"

"We're leaving tomorrow night. You should get packed."

"Can't you just leave us-"

"No," the oldest Winchester says firmly. "He's not handling things and staying here isn't helping."

Dean snorts before he can stop himself. Sam isn't handling things? How's he supposed to handle things when his father doesn't even know what happened and if he did would be more disgusted than anything else? Or when his older brother's trying so hard to deal with it himself he's leaving Sam alone to deal with things? It isn't Sam's fault things had gone too far,

Dean hasn't handled things right and now they're all going to suffer for it.

Like school isn't bad enough for Sam, now they were going to start over. Then again judging by the way his brother avoids him completely and has stopped talking about school or anyone there Dean's pretty sure Sam needs to go to another school soon before things get out of hand and someone gets hurt. In other words before Dean completely looses his cool and takes care of whoever's bothering Sam. Like Jake Spencer.

His father shoots him a confused look and Dean shakes it off, turning on his heel and letting his bedroom door slam shut behind him. For once in his life he doesn't give a damn what his father has to say about anything, least of all his behavior. It's a shame Sam isn't there to see it.

Dean paces their room for a half an hour before his control snaps. He can't sit around and wait for Sam to come back. It's not like he can even tell Sam how he feels about him. It's a waste of time to wait around to deliver absolutely no comfort. Besides, there are better things he could be doing for Sam right now, things that involved him taking out his aggressions on a much deserving party.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Miss. Cinnamon, sigh I'm lost without you. It's fact. You are also the sweetest beta ever! Sending me a get well card? I feel better already, mamita! Reviews keep the muse happy and hopefully the 'muse in a mask' as well. xoxo

Dean's in bed by the time Sam gets home. He's half asleep when Sam slips into the bed next to him, long arms winding around Dean's waist. Wide awake by the time slender fingers begin to stroke his sides as Sam's face nuzzles against Dean's throat.

"Sam," Dean warns. "Don't." He knows his words sound weak and forced, because they are. He means them, but he doesn't want to.

He wants to roll over and thread his fingers through Sam's hair, forcing his head back and crushing his mouth violently against Sam's. Dean wants to devour every bit of Sam's pain and kiss him back to his usual brooding, but sweet Sammy self.

But he can't, and that makes him wish he could say Sam's drunk, that way Dean has something else to hold responsible for their actions.

xXx

Sam ignores Dean's protests and nuzzles closer. He's spent hours wandering around this crap town, and hours more on the school steps replaying that day over and over in his mind.

He's tried to stay away from Dean, hell he's tried running away, but he couldn't do it and he can't pull away from Dean now.

"I miss you," Sam whispers pathetically, hating himself. "I want to get through this. I want to." He's making this harder on Dean but it's damn near impossible for him to let go. Even when Dean's the one that needs him to.

"We will, Sammy. It's just going to take some time."

He presses his lips to Dean's hesitantly; wincing when his brother shoves him back and shakes his head. "Sam we can't. You're my _brother_."

"You think I don't know that," Sam questions bitterly. Of course he knows that. It's a fact that's been eating away at him for the past few years, but that day forced everything out into the open and he's got nothing else he can do.

xXx

"Dean," he whimpers pleadingly.

"Sammy, I can't. You're my _brother_." God, why does he have to remind himself of that nearly as much as Sam? It should be easy, it should be clear. There should be no line for him to be even thinking of crossing.

"I don't care," Sam moans. "I need you."

"That's not fair, Sam," Dean forces himself to say. And it's not. It's not fair that Sam can say these things to him and not give a damn, not feel the same all consuming guilt that Dean feels just by thinking of Sam. He wishes that he could be like Sam, could _not_ care about consequences or what Dad would think if he found out. But he does, and he can't forget that.

"You did it before, why not now?"

"That was different, Sam" he argues, rolling over to face him. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

Sam's face falls, the insurmountable pain on his face seemingly multiplying by a thousand. Like what had happened that day was only okay to Sam if Dean was okay with it. Nothing else mattered but Dean's opinion, and as long as Dean was there, Sam didn't give a damn.

xXx

Sam doesn't want to make this harder on Dean. He doesn't even want to be here begging for Dean's touch. He wants to be able to forget, to lose himself in girls and booze like Dean does so easily. Or even just forget it through the self denial that Dean's always excelled at, and Sam's always failed miserably at. Which is what makes Dean's words that much harder to ignore or get past. To know that it was a mistake in Dean's eyes, whether it saved them or not.

"I get it," he murmurs. And he does, really, but that doesn't make it any easier to forget.

They're two very different people and that makes this so much harder for Sam, who wears his emotions on his sleeves while Dean buries them as deep down as they go. He's managed to hide his feelings for a long time from everyone and now he can't hide from Dean any longer, or from everyone else around them. But that's not enough. It's Dean that he needs to hide them from the most, Dean that he needs to be able to be close to without feeling his heart stop.

He can live without anyone else, without the shallow, distraction he calls friends at the latest school, without even Dad if he had to, but Dean is irreplaceable. Dean is someone he can't get past and doesn't want to even try to do without, not when he can have him so easily.

xXx

"Sammy," Dean pleads. "I didn't mean it like that. But this is wrong."

"I don't care. I haven't cared in so long," Sam moans, thrusting up against his brother's flat stomach.

Dean moans and finds himself pushing his own hips forward as Sammy thrusts against his stomach, his cloth covered cock sending shivers across Dean's bare skin. He finds himself rationalizing his way through this, demanding a reason for the way he feels or why he cares what other people would think about his being in love with Sam.

Why can't he love Sam? Why should Dean have to give up the only thing he's ever wanted so selfishly? Why should it matter who he loves or who he's with if he's good to that person and cares for them?

If it's love, why should _anything_ matter?

Dean doesn't have the answer to that, or any one of those questions for that matter. He just knows that it _does _matter and that if it could hurt Sam he should be able to stop himself.

It's those thoughts that have him acting on his desires, _their _desires. His hand finds Sam's hardened dick, and wraps around it, squeezing gently.

Sam whimpers against his throat. "Don't stop," he begs. "Oh, God, don't stop, Dean. Please."

"Shhh, Sammy. Dad will hear you."

He nods and whimpers in response.

Dean shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be enjoying this. But Sam is so relaxed, so happy for the first time since that day. Alive. His baby brother is alive again. And all he has to do is touch him, stroke him just like that.

Dean pumps his hand faster, suppressing his own moan as Sam arches up into his hand with a sharp gasp. It doesn't take much to get Sam off, the pent up frustration and desires since that day combined with Dean's warm fist more than enough. Sam buries his face in Dean's chest and whimpers his way through it, hips jerking uncontrollably. Dean presses a hand to Sam's lower back, trying to steady him as best he can without rolling Sam beneath him and taking what he wants. What Sam swears over and over he wants.

"We'll get through this," Dean reassures Sam, stroking his hair as Sam curls against him. They'll get through this because they have to, because they have no choice. Because Dean has to protect Sam and find a way to keep them close and so damn distant at the same time.

"Promise?" Sam asks thickly around the sleep suddenly filling his hazy and sated body.

"Yeah, Sammy. I promise."

Because what else can he do?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Major writer's block has been plaguing me for what feels like forever, but! I finally got a few chapters done, some new stories and whatnot, so I figured I'd celebrate by posting another chappie:) Miss. Cinnamon is my amazing beta, as always, and hopefully it will stay that way. As long as she's willing to deal with my pain in the behind self. Reviews, please? xoxo

Grinning from ear to ear, Sam races up the steps. Dean wasn't in school today and if it weren't for the fact that he'd personally seen the black and blue face of Jake Spencer's he would have taken that for a bad sign. Now he took more as…hiding out. To make things that much better, Dad's truck isn't in the parking lot, but the Impala is. Which means that Dean's home and Dad isn't.

Sam can't believe the sudden streak of luck he's having after all the pain and distance between him and Dean. After last night there was no way Dean could push Sam away. Not after what he'd done to Jake, and not after what they'd done. Dean hadn't even bothered to put him in his own bed. He'd woken up in Dean's arms, his brother's face buried against his neck.

Dean's in the living room on his phone, more than likely with Dad since Sam's phone is still safely tucked away in his pocket, but he doesn't let that stop him. He's had to go an entire day without seeing Dean, without even getting to brush up against him pathetically in the hallway, and he has more than a little to make up for since he'd fallen asleep on Dean.

His lips have barely touched Dean's neck when his brother lets out a strangled sound, his head dropping back on Sam's shoulder. Smirking, Sam takes this for encouragement and begins to mark Dean, while he has the annoying job of informing Dad just what the hell his problem is.

"Nothing," Dean swears, his voice a little too high. He clears his throat, his voice deepening as he repeats his answer. Apparently Dad's in a hurry because he lets it slide, and Dean sighs in relief. They're safe for now.

Ignoring Dean's weak attempts at pulling away, Sam winds his arms around Dean's waist and sucks hungrily at the skin Dean reluctantly offers. It's not much longer before Dean gives in completely, fisting a hand in Sam's hair and letting his eyes fall closed. Hmm-ing and ah-ing at all the right moments with an occasional 'yes, sir' to let know Dad that he's still alive-and no he's not having his neck sucked at the moment by his horny younger brother, no he's most definitely _not _doing that. 

xXx

Dean somehow finally manages to get off the phone with Dad without losing all of his senses and moaning Sam's name into the phone, and even with a reasonable amount of scolding as opposed to the full on Dad speech about their life and its dangers, the need to be prepared and protect Sam, to get it together and stop daydreaming. As if he's really daydreaming that Sam's in the living room doing his best to leave every inch of available a bright reddish purple as opposed to the tan color it normally was.

"Sam what are you doing?" Dean asks, stepping away from his brother and his eager kisses, as he slips his phone into his pocket. That was ridiculously close and he can't believe he let it go on for as long as he did.

"Thanking you," Sam says softly. "And kissing you while I can," He adds as if it should be so obvious. "You didn't have to do it," Sam murmurs, his mouth falling once more to Dean's neck.

"Do what?" Dean asks, feigning innocence, hoping to God that Sam's not talking about what Dean stupidly let happen last night, which is the only reason he doesn't pull back, at least that's what he tells himself.

Sam snorts and places one last gentle kiss to Dean's neck. "Come on, Dean. It's obvious you did it."

"Did what?"

"Kicked Jake's ass." Sam grins, his cheeks tinged pink with the blush that's suddenly creeping up his neck.

Oh. That. He'd almost forgotten about that. He hadn't had a choice though. He couldn't let Jake get away with thinking it was okay to hurt Sam, even if it was just to pick on him, and even if Sam had done just fine in the ass kicking department. It had felt good to show Jake how he felt for Sam, without all the talk of emotions or the _sick, dude, he's your_ _brother_ he would get from anyone else. 

"Who says I-"

Sam cuts him off with a kiss so full of hunger and gratefulness Dean feels his knees go weak. "You don't really think I'm that stupid, do you?"

Dean can feel his resolve weakening with every stroke of Sam's tongue and knows that if he doesn't stop it soon, he won't be able to stop it at all. He quickly disentangles himself as best he can without just running straight for the door.

"Stop," he orders, holding a hand up to keep Sam from coming any closer.

Sam shakes his head in confusion. "Last night-"

"Last night shouldn't have happened," Dean answers bitterly. He'd been weak and he'd given into the things he'd only dreamt about. He'd risked Sam's love and he wasn't about to do it again.

"But you said-"

"We'll get through this, Sam. I didn't lie to you," Dean says, cutting Sam off this time before he can take it any further than Dean can stand. "It's just going to take some time."

"So it was a slip up then?" Sam demands incredulously. "You didn't mean to jerk me off it just kind of happened?"

"Sam-"

"No, Dean. I'm just trying to understand this. So if I sucked your cock now, it would only be okay right now?" Sam asks, tilting his head to the side. "Tomorrow it would be a slip up, something to forget. Like last night. Or a few weeks ago when you nearly fucked my brains out in an empty classroom, well, nearly empty anyway, but for now it'd be okay."

Oh _fuck_. Why does Sam have to say things like that? Dean's resolve is already weak, a fact proven last night when he'd so readily caved to Sam's needs. 

"We don't have time for this," Dean says, switching subjects so fast Sam's head is left spinning. "Get packed."

Sam's anger slowly dissipates, confusion quickly replacing it. "Packed? What are you talking about, Dean?"

"That was Dad," he says. "We've got a hunt."

"So we're just gonna ignore everything that's going on between us because Dad's found us something new to chase after?"

"Now's not the time," Dean snaps. Dad should be home in a few hours and the way things are going now, they might not even be halfway through it by then.

"Then when is the time?" Sam demands, shrugging his backpack off and kicking it to the side. "When, Dean? When Dad finds out what really happened that day?"

"Sam," Dean sighs. "Get packed."

"No!" Sam protests. "I'm not going anywhere. I've had it with this life and the constant back and forth. I'm _done_." 

If anyone's done, it's Dean. He's had enough of Sam's melodramatic bullshit. It's going to take time for things to work out and he's just going to have to accept the fact that for once Dean can't offer him a quick fix.

"We're leaving as soon as Dad gets back so you better just straighten the hell up, Sam."

"I'm not going," Sam repeats. "I'm done."

"Like hell." This isn't even up for discussion, so he doesn't know why he's even bothering to listen to Sam.

"I'm not going. I'm not switching schools again and I'm not dealing with this anymore."

"You're going to run away from your family because of what happened almost a month ago?"

Sam shakes his bangs out of his eyes to glare at his older brother more effectively, sending Dean's heart into his throat instead of shaking in his boots. Dammit. Dean's suppose to be focusing on Sam's words, not his eyes or his lips or any other part of him. Now or ever.

xXx

Of something that happened a month ago? Is that how Dean thinks of it, is that all it is to him? Just something that happened a month ago, time to move on. Because last night sure hadn't felt that way, or even that afternoon in the hallway when Dean held him and promised him things would get better. It had felt like _what happened a month ago_ had been a hell of a lot more. 

"You don't get it, Dean. You just don't get it. I guess you mean more to me than-" He stops suddenly. That isn't what he wants to say to his brother. He doesn't want those words to be the last thing Dean remembers. Or that he remembers saying. "Forget it."

Dean laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty, Sam? Because you don't need to do that. I feel guilty enough as it is."

"I don't want you to feel guilty," he cries. That's not what this is about.

"Then what _do_ you want? You want me to get angry, to fight you on this? To beg you to come with us? Or you want me to walk away and you can have it out with Dad?" 

Sam sighs in defeat and scrubs a hand down his face. "I just want it to be over."

xXx

Dean wants it to be over too. He wants to be able to look at Sam without feeling overwhelming guilt and pain, without the desire that makes him weak enough to cave and give Sam all the things he asks for. He wants to be able to throw an arm around Sam's shoulder and be greeted with a bright, sunny smile that Sam only ever gives him. He just doesn't know how to take things back.

"I know it's hard, Sam. But we are going to get through this. If you'll just go get packed-"

Sam's head snaps up, his eyes blazing, and Dean realizes he's made a mistake in switching gears so soon again. "I'm not going. I'm not doing this again."

"Sammy, please," Dean pleads. Why can't he just get packed and then have it out with Dean? He'll gladly let Sam yell and scream at him all he wants once that's done, once he knows that Sam's going to be safe with him.

"You can't _Sammy_ your way out of this one," he snaps. "There's nothing you can say to make me stay." 

Dean glares back at Sam, fully ready to snatch him by the arm and drag him wherever the hell it is they're going next if he doesn't get his ass in gear, when he realizes what Sam's said.

He's said there's nothing Dean can _say_ to make him stay. But he hadn't ruled out what Dean could _do_. 

A smirk settling over his lips, he takes a step forward, not enjoying the irony of the situation as Sam begins to step back, as he thought he would. For once Sam the one putting distance between the two of them.

Sam steps back, Dean steps forward. They keep playing this game, neither speaking, until Sam's pressed up against the wall, having backed himself literally into a corner with no escape.

So much for wanting it to be over.


End file.
